


Premature

by HadenXCharm



Series: P.E. Debacle [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Awkward First Times, Broken timeline, Coming of Age, Intentional Cockblock, Long Running Joke, Love Confessions, M/M, No Underage Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Reciprocated Crush, Sexual Tension, Underage Character(s), begins at the end, sex but no underage sex, versatile couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: Ichigo thinks he's going to go fucking mental! Nineteen years old can handle a goddamn kiss!      Read within for a  jumbled roundabout story of a young man's experiences with cockblock, emotional congestion, and a first time gone wrong.





	1. Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you'd rather read the chapters in order by timeline, I'll name them from first to last.

“You okay there?” came Renji’s slightly muffled voice, and for all its concern, it felt as far away as if it were emanating from a timeless void. Confused, slightly standoffish, and entirely too close to his rear; not the right tone, considering the situation.

Ichigo’s mouth drew into a flat tense line and he merely closed his eyes. Well, this was going great, wasn’t it?

They were trying to have sex. Yeah, _trying_ \- it’s a first time, so they’re still figuring out the logistics. Well, Ichigo was. Not Renji really. _Renji_ knew what he was doing. Meanwhile _Ichigo_ was lying there sweating bullets with his legs apart and an expression with all the sobriety one would assume during an invasive operation.

When Ichigo didn’t respond to his query, Renji’s head popped up from its prime observation spot. His eyes were suspiciously narrowed, staring Ichigo down with an accusing shrewdness. The repeat journey of his fingers slowed momentarily, becoming gentler as he waited for a status update on his performance.

He tipped his head up to meet Renji’s lie-detecting gaze. “Yeah,” he said shortly with as little breath as possible, holding the rest in as if it was vital that he store it - you know, for posterity, in case of future shortages.

“’m fine.”

‘I’m fine,’ said the guy with the limp dick and two fingers in his asshole. Who the hell believed that? _He_ didn’t even believe that.

Renji pursed his lips, eyes narrowing further as he returned to his prior pace although he clearly didn’t believe Ichigo either. Ichigo let his head fall back down again and chewed on his tongue as sweat rolled down his brow and into his sideburns, darkening them further.

“You don’t _look_ fine,” Renji muttered almost unintelligibly, voice low and clumsy with an unusual combination of distrust and arousal.

Ichigo just ground his teeth in irritation and barked, “Fuck you.” He took a few measured gasps and then held his breath as Renji twisted his fingers in with more zeal. Ichigo knew the sensitive bit he kept rubbing and pressing on was a show of skill, but he couldn’t help but feel like a piggy bank that a kid was trying to pull one last coin out of.

He was getting used to it, but it still was… not the kind of pleasure he was used to. He was having a tough time staying hard, and his thighs and back were starting to burn from repeated muscle contractions. He felt like a pressurized can being overfilled with air, and holy fucking shit, even though he was lying still and letting Renji do the work, he was breathing heavily and was sweating like mad.

When the pressure eased somewhat when Renji pulled back to his second knuckles and spread his fingers within him to stretch his muscles, Ichigo took a few calming breaths and reminded himself that he’d agreed to this. He’d been the one to cajole and coax Renji for _ages_  to get to this point. This was his idea. He’s twenty and a virgin, and he’s at the point where he-

“Gghk!” Ichigo grit his teeth and grunted, clenching his eyes shut as Renji repeatedly curled his finger in a careful 'come here' motion. He made a grab for Renji’s free hand, but it wasn’t lying where it had been just a moment ago.

Renji hummed lustily, holding him open with his thumb and reaching deeper with his fingers. It was like he was trying to poke him in the organs or something!

Ichigo tossed a sweaty arm over his eyes and breathed through his mouth, pulling at his dick with his other hand. Ah, Jesus Christ, how’d he get himself into this one?

Oh right...


	2. One

_Wild thing, you make my heart sing._

_..._

Ichigo stretched on his toes with his arms above his head after leaving a meeting with the Sou-Taichou, Old Man Kyoraku.  There’d been some other people there too, but it was a bit fuzzy. Mostly he’d just paid attention to the part where Kyoraku-jii told him to think about what he was going to do with his life from now on. For one, the people of Seireitei were endlessly grateful, ya-da ya-da, but... they didn’t really know what to _do_ with him.

Even though almost everybody was nice to him and wanted him to stay after his service in the wars, there were still some who were afraid of him and what his power could do. Something about the fabric of the universe. No one ever explained anything to him. Kyoraku had offered him a home here; a few had thought he should take a Captain’s position or a lieutenancy at least, but Ichigo agreed with Kyoraku when he'd said he didn’t need the responsibility – he'd done enough, the old man had said. Ichigo had always had a lot of respect for Kyoraku, but it put it over the top when he’d talked to him heart to heart, calmly, like he was an adult. The only thing he’d wanted to know was what Ichigo wanted to do now – that’s all – and they'd let him do it, whatever it was.

It had been a surprisingly hard question to answer. Ichigo had never really thought about it, figuring he'd get that all sorted out after the war, and now that it was time, the answers didn't come as easily as he'd thought they would.

On one hand, now that things had quieted down, he could finally learn outside of real-life survival situations. He never had gotten around to learning much about the Soul Society, or how to control reiatsu, or…

Ichigo sighed. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, really. His friends here wanted him to hang around, you know. The Eleventh wanted him in their squad, but Ichigo didn’t know where he belonged. He didn’t know if he even wanted to be a seated officer – he'd have no responsibility, freedom to roam and go where he was needed, to learn from the greatest swordsmasters in every area, no squad partisanship. He was pretty sure that Kyoraku would let him wander around.

But then there was his family, his human life. Back when he’d first come here to rescue Rukia, when he’d fought Aizen, that’s all he’d wanted was a normal life… Quiet, peaceful, content, _normal._

And then those seventeen months alone . . . It hadn’t felt like part of him had been ripped out, more like… it had just disappeared, just gone away, never existed to begin with but still felt and missed and yearned for every single second. There had been something that was suddenly absent that he hadn’t known he’d gained or started to need. He had come to the horrible and ugly realization of just how depressed and alone he’d felt before he’d met Rukia and everyone else.

Getting his powers back had felt more like coming home than being sent back to Karakura had by a long shot.

He… he wanted to stay, he really did. He didn't want to feel that loneliness again – but when he was here, he missed his family, he _worried_. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been selfish, and others, that’s all he wanted to do was finally do something to find happiness, something for his own sake, something just for Ichigo and no one else.

He had a chance to do that now, to do what he wanted. The war was over and it was time to choose a life, a direction to take next.

Ichigo cracked his neck on both sides and wandered down the road away from the Division One meeting hall.

Besides the obvious strain his powers would place on the environment, Karakura was his home, and he had always imagined he’d make a life there. He’d vaguely figured he’d be a doctor or a cop or something, have some kids. When he’d been alone for that year and half with no powers, living as a real human for the first time in his life, unable to see spirits, he’d started thinking, maybe college, maybe-

Ichigo rubbed his hand over his eyes, scrubbing at them. Ugh, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to move on like this had all meant nothing to him, like it had all been just a blip and now he was back to regular business. In a perfect world, he would try to balance his two lives, but he didn’t know if he could do both. He’d tried that at fifteen and his grades had suffered, his sisters had had a frequently absent big brother, not to mention everyone he’d known in the Living World had constantly been suspicious of his weird behavior. No, he couldn’t do that anymore. Those dreams of a normal life couldn’t stand while he kept one foot in the door here. He can’t be a shinigami and… and whatever a human Ichigo would do. He didn’t know how to balance them; couldn't. He had to choose where to stay, had to choose who he was . . .

This place had shaped him, brought him back to life, and it was sad to say goodbye, but… maybe it was time to move on. He’d have to think about it. There were a lot of people to say goodbye to. He didn’t look forward to that part, if it came to it; he didn’t want it to be so _final._ He could always visit, right? Maybe they’d let him do that, yes, maybe…

He wondered what Rukia would say about the whole thing, if he asked her. He’d really like to hear her advice, what she would do, what she thought was best for him. He felt like she’d always really understood him well. She might be the person he’d miss the most.

Ichigo headed on down the road, figuring he’d go bug her for a while over at Squad Thirteen. He’ll walk – the whole way down. It was a long way, but he wanted to take in the scenery, just in case.

She’d probably be glad for some help. Poor woman had a lot on her plate over there. He didn’t envy her. As much as he wanted to stay here, that kind of responsibility seemed stressful, caging, and he was still young. Saving the world wasn’t so much – it was all in the greater name of protecting those he cared about – but captaincy, he was a young guy and that kind of a job seemed so binding, restrictive. Responsible for so many people, bound by the law, sometimes forced to make sucky decisions: Ichigo didn’t envy that.

As a kid he’d always hoped for a quiet life; maybe that’s what had driven him to protect, the desire to keep that dream alive for someone else - the ability to live peacefully, to freely love someone else and center your world around them. Ichigo didn’t want anyone else to lose that like he had lost it. Everything he’s done since then has felt like the rambling futile efforts of a lost and blubbering child trying to fix the sand castle – _their_ sand castle – that had been destroyed by the ancient and cruel tide. Maybe it could be fixed, rebuilt again, but not the same, never the same.

Not the same, but perhaps beautifully, heartbreakingly, _eerily_ similar. Similar enough that–

Ichigo sighed. It was anyone’s guess what he’d do at this point. Here, he felt accepted, but it was a far cry from a sand castle on the beach. Here he had the chance for a drastically different life than the one he’d been trying to recreate, just as wonderful, perhaps infinitely more fulfilling, maybe even enough to perfectly fill the hole or scoop out all the pain of the past – he has a chance for happiness in an adventure, in the infinite unknown, if he diverts from the path he’d planned, the path he’d been stuck on as he struggled to stack and shape the sand back like it’d been before and tried to be happy with it, tried not to compare it to the first one that had been perfect in every way.

Maybe that adventure would land him on a far-flung and unexplored island, preshaped by nature, having been waiting there for him since before the day he’d been born, waiting, _waiting for him_ to just set foot on the bare shore, wild and exciting, untouched; he can make something new there. Equally lovely and inviting, but crafted completely differently from everything he’d lost, everything he was terrified that he might never get back. 

That was what scared him though – if he stayed and went looking for a new way to go, he might lose the chance of having that nearly identical sand castle; if he tried, he might almost get it the same. It might feel close. It might feel good enough. He might not spend every day of his life comparing it to the first one, he might not be tortured by its slight flaws and differences, he might be satisfied at least. If he didn’t try, he’d never know, and he didn’t know if he wanted that loose end left dangling like that . . . 

Crap, he’d made himself sad.

He took a gusty sigh and tried to put off the tough shit for when he and Rukia met. There’d be time for pain and suffering, and it would surely be when she heard his bellyaching.

Inoue had already gone home. Ichigo pinched his chin thoughtfully. Now that this whole Yhwach mess was over and Ichigo was free to leave Seireitei and make a quiet life, that Inoue, she-

“Oi, Ichigo!”

Ichigo shook his head as though to shake off the chains of his troubled thoughts, and located the source of that familiar voice. He looked over his shoulder, straightening up at the welcome sight of an out-of-control red pony and double bandannas.

“Oh! Renji!”

Renji raised a hand as he caught up with him, and Ichigo stood and waited. He cleared his throat and took a half-step back as Renji came up next to him. The airflow resulting from Renji’s brisk pace continued towards him and Ichigo could tell Renji had been working in the office, which explained why they hadn’t seen each other in the past day or so. Anything that’s been around Byakuya stinks of flowers.

Renji, seeming slightly out of breath, grinned down at him, although it’s not as far down as Ichigo remembered. As his head tilted forward slightly, the sun glinted off the reflective glass of his stupidly expensive and clearly _new_ visor. A privately fond and slightly scornful laugh scraped around inside him, only escaping enough for Ichigo’s lip to quirk and for his breath to rush out of his nose. Big idiot.

“Yo. Were you with the Sou-Taichou?”

“Ahh, yeah,” Ichigo griped, scowling a bit and starting to walk again. Renji plodded along next to him after watching him go for a moment, seeming oddly thoughtful, which was a bit annoying. Ichigo was tired of thinking and talking about his decisions; it got him all gloomy, and whenever he got like that around here, he always got smacked up side the head for it. “Wants to know what I’m gonna’ do. No rush, but… ah, time ta’ move on. He’s gotta’ plan around my decision.”

Renji grunted a response and was quiet for a minute, like he was trying to figure something out. Ichigo didn’t bother keeping the conversation up, figuring whatever Renji was here for – if anything – he’d come out with it on his own eventually.

“So,” Renji finally mumbled, scratching behind his ear in a way that suggested it hadn’t actually itched, “You, uh… You decided yet?”

“Nah.”

“Oh.” Grunting, Renji nodded sharply and they continued in relative silence. Ichigo walked at an easy pace, looking around him with a wistful gaze intent on memorizing every detail.

“Is there a reason we’re walking? Where’re you goin' anyways?”

“To Rukia.”

“Ahh, fuck, that’s all the way on the other end. Why not just shunpo?” Renji complained.

Ichigo shrugged once. “Thought I’d see it all one more time.” There was a long loaded pause.

“You’re not goin’ though.”

“Who knows what’ll happen.”

Renji didn’t complain again about walking and slowed down with him. Ichigo expected him to eventually grow annoyed or bored and tell him he had somewhere to be, then split, but Renji stayed and took the same steps he did; he even stayed silent and looked where Ichigo looked, at the peak of every roof, at every tree branch, every weed growing through a crack in the street. His expression was a bit hard, and whenever Ichigo glanced at him, he glared away at some point in front of them.

Ichigo gave a long controlled sigh. It’d been quiet around here for the last little while. Hollow activity has gone back to normal. Well… _normal_ as in it was like the good old days when he’d first found out about his powers. Not much to fight besides the normal Hollows, maybe a Menos on a rough day. People are safer than ever. Things have settled down a lot since Yhwach ate it.

They don’t really _need_ Ichigo here anymore, do they. He’s free to go home. If he wants to.

“Wanted’a’ talk.”

Ichigo, not having realized he’d drifted away into thought and memory again, looked up at the sudden assertion, only to find that Renji was still glaring away from him as though he hadn’t said anything. This by itself wasn’t of much note because Renji could be a surly bastard at times, but after having come up to him so seemingly cheerful, the change in mood was a bit perturbing. “… Yeah?” Ichigo acknowledged after a few moments as if to say, ‘Okay, well, are you gonna’ talk or what?'

“Whaddaya’ think you’re gonna’ do now?” Renji asked, stubbornly refusing to meet Ichigo’s eyes even though he clearly knew Ichigo was looking at him.

He stared for a few moments longer, hoping to at least make Renji sweat if he was going to ignore him like that, but if that fucker had one thing going for him, the guy does not break. Ichigo finally sighed and let his head pivot forward again, and immediately in his periphery, he saw Renji’s gaze snap to him like a magnet released from the hold of a stubborn child.  “I dunno’,” he said simply, rubbing at his hair and gazing up at the sky, the patchy clouds, a smattering of passing birds.

“I wish I didn’t have to decide now.” He hadn’t meant to let his voice come out that sad or small sounding.

“Yeah,” Renji prompted gruffly when Ichigo didn’t go on.

“Yeah, I dunno’, I just,” Ichigo sighed tiredly, “I always thought I wanted a normal life, but that year an’ a half bein’ a normal guy again… wasn’t great.” He looked away in embarrassment, brows tightening. He hadn’t admitted that to anyone here before. “I know you guys had stuff to do, but it felt like…”

He’d been hurt when no one had come to see him. That felt like a stupid and childish thought, so he didn't say aloud that he wished they would've visited him, even just once, but it was the truth. He’d felt forgotten; he’d been lonely.

Life had really sucked without this part of him. Meeting Rukia had brought him out of this depression that he'd been trapped in for what must’ve been ages. Losing her and the world she'd introduced him to had sent him back to that passive and depressed state of limbo he'd been drifting through before they'd met. It had been really hard to go on, after feeling like he'd found a purpose here, friends, a… a _reason_ to- . . . Anyway, it had been really hard to go on like the people he'd met, the job he'd taken, the way his life had changed, like it all had never even happened. He’d wondered countless times if it had been like that for them too, if it had been like _Ichigo_ had never happened and that was why they didn’t visit, why they didn’t write. He wondered if it had been hard for them, because it had been for him, maybe the hardest thing he’d ever done, to let go of it all just as he’d started to feel like he’d found himself again.

Rukia disintegrating in front of him and seeing,  _feeling_ nothing, not even a whisper of her presence – he'd never felt so empty like that. Losing all of this, it had almost been as bad as losing his mom.

Of course, he couldn’t say any of that to anyone here now that he was back. It wasn’t that he was afraid of what they would say or think; it’s that he already knew. He already knew the wallop he'd get to the head, the scolding words he'd receive for being so soft-hearted – but that didn’t change the facts that those seventeen months had hurt.

He'd never felt more alone in the world, his life never more pointless. It had taken months to start moving past that, to start to cope with his normal life.

He'd been almost unbearably lonely.

“I dunno’ what it felt like,” he finished, thankful that Renji hadn’t interrupted his long silence with scorn or hit him for admitting he’d doubted that they’d still cared, that he'd thought they'd forgotten him – that he had such a weakened, young, and emotional response to the thought of life without them, that without them, he didn’t have a reason to be strong.

– for admitting that without this, without all of them, he _was_ weak.

He looked up again, swallowing as he met Renji’s eyes to gauge his reaction. His face was unreadable, neutral, his eyes sharp and piercing into him. To break the mood, Ichigo added, “-But I missed all a’ this.” He quirked his lip and then glanced away, Renji’s stare making him distinctly uneasy.

“Me too.” Ichigo looked back again, quickly, like a child who’d spotted lightning in a snowstorm and searched for a duplicate strike voraciously even though the freak occurrence was unlikely to be repeated. He blinked in surprise, opening his mouth to say something, and found he had nothing. Renji cleared his throat and pursed his lips, seeming equally surprised by his own words as he fiercely looked the other way. Seeing as he was clearly uncomfortable, Ichigo figured that maybe that had been an embarrassing slip of the tongue that Renji now regretted. Too curious to tease and risk preventing Renji from saying more, Ichigo carefully turned his head forward, but peeked an eye at him. “I mean, uh… It was… quiet,” Renji eventually explained, “with you gone.”

Ichigo nodded to urge him on, bewildered and perversely fascinated by Renji’s weird behavior. He wasn’t very talkative, which was unusual, and was moodier than normal too.

“I had a lotta’ thinkin’ time,” Renji went on, his tone more brisk, as though he would soon be coming to the point but had to work up to it. He kept his head turned unnecessarily far away, like he didn’t want Ichigo to see anything but his ear. Ichigo occasionally looked ahead to watch where he was going, but glanced back to Renji’s face as they went, by now completely clueless as to where Renji was taking this. “Lotta’ work.” He scratched at the base of his ponytail, pulling on a piece of his hair; kinda’ fidgety, wasn’t he. “An’… Well, then when ya’ came back and you were around again, I realized that whole thing about whatcha’ did for me an’ Rukia, right?” He cleared his throat again, scratching his nose, “An’ I really got the whole reason, you know, that people… well… why people respect you an' want you around n' stuff. You’re like, a hero.”

If he’d had no idea where this was going before, they were in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere now – the only thing he could catch onto was that it sounded like he was being set up for a joke. Renji always fucked with him like that. He’s no hero and they both know it. He smirked a bit and came to a stop in an open courtyard and some trees along the road. Renji slowly approached nearby, arms crossed and shifting his weight frequently.

“Why everyone _says_ that anyway,” he hastily corrected. “Not that I agree. Don’t go gettin’ a big head or whatever.”

“Puh’,” Ichigo snorted. “Nice ta’ hear you finally admitting it. So, the reason – is it ’cause I fix everything?” he joked.

Renji uncrossed his arms and let his fists hang at his sides, clenching and unclenching. He took a step towards Ichigo, who leisurely rested his butt against a tree trunk, beginning to suspect that he’d made a miscalculation in assuming Renji was yanking his chain. He looked pretty serious now, so much so that Ichigo wondered if he might try to hit him after all.

“No.”

Ichigo chewed the inside of his cheek for a minute, scanning Renji’s tense stance and his aggressive body language. Did he do something to piss him off? What accounted for such a sharp change in mood? He was starting to get a little nervous. That glare of Renji’s was seriously intense.

“… What then?”

 

Renji stepped in even closer, close enough that Ichigo instinctively tried to veer his head back to compensate and maintain a reasonable amount of personal space, but couldn’t much due to the tree at his back. His mouth shut with a snap and he watched as Renji’s eyes flicked over his face as though he were looking for something specific and was dissatisfied in not finding it. Ichigo’s face flushed and the hair stood up all over his body as he felt Renji’s breath on his cheek. God, he was so close. 

He wasn’t saying anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything? He was just fucking _staring_ at him! What kind of joke was this?!

Unable to take the awkwardness, Ichigo blurted out, “You’re acting fucking weird,” and moved away a bit, crossing his arms and biting his lip viciously, willing the heat in his cheeks to die down. The hell had that been about, huh?

Renji crossed his own arms and sidled closer again, not as close as before, but still in Ichigo’s space. “You’re not goin’ back again, are ya’?” Ichigo looked up at the unexpected question and his scowl eased at the sight of Renji’s troubled frown.

“Before,” Renji said flatly, more bothered than he was letting on, “When you said’ja’ wanted’a’ see it all again. You didn’t say you weren’t.” Ichigo clenched his eyes shut and sighed. Renji’s voice held a bit more emotion for brief nearly indecipherable moments, sharp around the edges in small bursts that were as quick and hard to follow as a crackle of sparks blowing off of an open fire. “You’re not really gonna’ go back, are you?”

“What do you want me to say, Renji? _Yes_ , I’ve been thinking about it. Sue me,” Ichigo sniped without much energy. He was far too tired to argue this one. Just thinking about it was making him unbearably sad. “I grew up there. You people have sent me back there like, a bunch of times now anyway, and it's just as well – Karakura is my home.” The words hurt coming out.

“Iz’at’ where you feel like you belong?” Renji pressed uncertainly, his eyes shifting, “With normal humans?”

“You saying I don’t?” Ichigo accused, brow furrowing. Did Renji really think that?

Tossing his head with a harsh huff through his teeth, Renji turned away completely then, hands in balls at his sides, his shoulders tense. The words that came next were loud, so crisp and deliberate, _angry_ , that they were unmistakable, yet they were still so outside the realm of reasonable probability that they took Ichigo a second to process.

“I’m saying I’d fuckin’ miss you.”

That shut Ichigo right up, and every thought of spiting that fucker Renji who thought he couldn’t have a happy fulfilling sandcastle life in the Living World ebbed away.

Clearly the words had been spur of the moment, because now they were hanging there, and no one wanted to follow that one up. They both just stood there for a moment, embarrassed – because that was a line they’d agreed not to cross. ‘ _I never want to get that sentimental again:’_  Renji had said something to that effect not long ago when they’d been facing the very real chance of death, and yet here he’d just broken the rules, he’d gone and let slip that he’d miss Ichigo if he went away. That wasn’t allowed. It was too truthful, too vulnerable, _naked_ , and the moment after was hot with shame and pulsing with the raw nerves that had been left exposed by that impulsive outburst.

Ichigo’s every muscle was drawn taught, and whether they were straining so hard in an effort to hold him still or to try to get him to move, he had no idea; he was too aghast to know the difference. It didn’t matter now, nothing did. Nothing ever would again – Renji didn’t want him to go. Renji had come to tell him not to go home. He wanted Ichigo to stay here.

Ichigo swallowed, and then tried again when his throat was too dry. He felt like the ensuing silence would keep echoing indefinitely, awkward and stuffed far too full of emotion they’d avoided acknowledging directly, at least until Renji had gone and-    Ichigo felt like he had been poked full of cotton, jammed to bursting with it. Renji wanted him to stay here, he’d said as much out loud, and Ichigo was fucking mortified.

When neither of them could take it anymore, Renji chanced a glance at him. Whatever emotion Ichigo had then displayed for Renji to have deemed it safe to turn back towards him, he didn’t know. He couldn’t feel his face; it might as well be a plaster mold. All the same, Renji turned, keeping his head down. His brows were pushed together, dark and harsh beneath his bandanna. His fists coiled tight as though he were trying to hold something closed with the force of his grip. An inkling of suspicion started to creep and crawl through, leaving Ichigo itching all over.  “I’m sayin’ I’ve lost out on time with someone that I…” Ichigo startled, foot shifting back. Renji grit his teeth. “It’s happened before.”

Before?   Ichigo thought of what Renji had told him about him and Rukia drifting apart, unable to even look at each other for forty years. He thought of that pain, losing someone you love so much, and he knows Renji better at this moment than he ever has, understood how he worked, his motivations, his troubles, his sorrows. Ichigo thought of that pain, and he-

“I’ve paid for it, an’ I’ve learned the hard way not ta’ let that shit slide – ta’ not... repeat my worst mistakes,” Renji growled, his voice growing tight and angry, and the creeping suspicion of what was coming pounced out of the bushes and hit Ichigo all at once, with more momentum and force than a ton of bricks. It broke his legs, destroyed them, crushed them; they would never walk again, but there was no pain. Everything below the belly button tingled, and he gets why it’s called butterflies now, because his pulse _flutters_. The legs are still gone – what legs. He felt like he was floating. He felt like he’d _throw up_ , he was tingling so much – because he thought he knew what was happening, what Renji was saying. “And Ichigo, you dumbass, annoying, frustrating, idiotic-”

“Hey, the fuck?” he snapped, but his voice was thin and so, so weak.

“I’m tellin’ you now, before ya’ go,” Renji said, drawing closer. Ichigo let him. His throat was dry and his palms sweated. “Just so I’ve got it out and you know it,” he added lowly, his eyes flicking down. And Ichigo didn’t just think then; he _knew_. Renji must’ve known his point had gotten across, because he didn’t seem antsy or upset anymore, now that he had the words out. He seemed resigned, relieved even, and his eyes raised to Ichigo’s tentatively, and as they finally did so, Ichigo could see this fragile, hopeful, wild thing living in there.

“O-” he stuttered, eyes wide, “Oh.”

He hadn’t had the slightest suspicion in the world, hadn’t noticed a thing. People always told him he was a dolt and that he didn’t catch on to the most obvious things, but he’d chalked that up to a bad string of coincidences. But now here Renji was, telling him that- Just look at those eyes, don’t you see what-? And Ichigo did feel like a dolt. He blinked and shook his head slightly.    ‘ _Oh_.’

Whether he took Ichigo’s silent stricken reaction as surprise or shyness, or thought that since he hadn’t had a violent outburst thus far that it meant he was receptive, Renji kept approaching regardless, coming in closer and closer.

Ichigo’s heart pounded like a butterfly’s wingbeat, quick and light and with no particular rhythm. Renji was so close, and he didn’t look upset anymore. His brow was tense, but not in anger. No, he wasn’t mad at all. His eyes were searching, his words low and tentative, almost gentle.

“Do you get what I’m saying?”

He does. He really does, and he won’t make Renji say it. Ichigo’s cheeks blazed and he didn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe enough to even respond verbally, because Renji kept approaching, more and more, until he was right in his face and his lips were so close by that any sudden twitch could put it over. Renji’s slow calm breaths made it feel like they were already touching from the way they filled the space with warmth. All the dangers he’d faced, all the terror and uncertainty and self-doubt Ichigo had felt, and this was the moment he felt like he might die, that he might be finished, over with, defeated – because he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t lift a finger. He felt special, and frightened, and _weak._

Renji braced a hand next to Ichigo’s face, and Ichigo swallowed hard as Renji’s eyes conspicuously flicked down to his lips and then back up to his startled eyes. The distance was closing as Renji tilted his head, and Ichigo’s eyes started to drift close, out of his control, almost as though he’d been tranquilized and was falling into a trance. Renji’s lips were right there, brushing just to the side of his mouth, and Ichigo jerked slightly, hesitating, adrenaline making his head spin. His heart pounded like mad, harsh and exhilarating.

Did he get what Renji was saying? Did he fully comprehend what was happening here, that this was a new doorway that had opened up, leading to a terrifying and complete unknown? Could he guess what lay beyond if he chose to venture through? What might be there, what could he discover, what kind of crazy adventure could be waiting, new and unexplored, wonderful, waiting- waiting-     Renji’s mouth was a mere thread’s breadth from his, his breath gusting through his parted lips onto Ichigo’s, his entire body seeming to strain against an invisible but immovable barrier a millimeter from Ichigo’s skin, waiting eagerly, waiting for him to poke his foot out and place it on the untouched sand of a since unseen island –

“Yeah,” Ichigo rasped.

He turned the few increments of space to brush their lips together as he speaks, just barely, and he feels braver than he should, considering what a simple action it was.

“Good.” At his reply, Renji’s shoulders eased and a long sigh rushed out of him. “Great,” he hummed, voice so low that Ichigo felt it more than heard it. He rested his forehead at Ichigo’s brow, mouth grazing the side of his cheek, and Ichigo almost jumped as Renji’s callused hand slid roughly though his and squeezed for a moment. He tried to glance down without moving his head much, half-afraid that if he did anything but hold stock-still, Renji would back away, would stop. He reciprocated somewhat shyly, holding Renji’s fingers in his sweaty grasp.

Renji likes him! His entire brain was in a buzz with the knowledge, head reeling. Ichigo swallowed again, heart jerking around. This was the most exciting thing to happen to him in forever! You know, besides the whole soldier of the undead thing and the world almost ending. Small things.

The moment was short, and Ichigo feverishly exhaled when Renji let go of his hand as quickly as he’d grasped it. He backed away to sort of awkwardly brush himself off. It was weird to watch, and Ichigo just openly gaped at Renji as he cleared his throat and swiped at his nose for no reason whatsoever besides trying to belie his obvious embarrassment. He took a couple steps out towards the street, rolling his shoulders like nothing of note had just happened, not looking at Ichigo, who stared after him, mouth still hanging slack.

Ichigo’s hand tingled. Oh god, they’d held hands.

He put his head down and wiped his wet palm on his leg, then stepped after Renji, practically panting. He thinks he might be shaking, just a little. Wow, that had been really…

Renji cleared his throat again, decidedly _not_ looking at him as he started to walk off, scratching at the back of his neck as he went. “Let’s get somethin’a’ eat after you talk ta’ Rukia.” Ichigo nodded behind him with a casual grunt and adjusted Zangetsu before following Renji’s entirely too large strides.

He watched Renji’s long ponytail blow around in the wind and jostle with each of his heavy steps, and bit his lip.

After quickening his pace to walk alongside Renji, he smiled at the thrill the bump of their shoulders sent jolting through him. “Actually, I can do that later.”

“Hm? Didn’t you have to tell her something?”

“Nah, it can wait.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Maybe… maybe he will stay in Seireitei.  Just for a while longer. 

...

_Wild thing, I think I love you._


	3. Nine

_I wanna' make you mine, but that's hard to say. Is this coming off in a cheesy way?_

_. . ._

The fragile paper door to Renji’s quarters shut hard, rattling on its frame after the hasty slam rolled it back into place behind the room’s two occupants, who were currently sealed at the mouth and scrabbling at each other with hungry hands.

Every part of Ichigo unanimously agreed, heart, head, libido: this was the best fucking night of his life – _and the greatest part is that it was only half over!_ The fun was only just getting started.

Although they hadn’t drank at any of the celebrations, they stumbled towards Renji’s bed as though they were indeed inebriated. Renji was laughing a bit and Ichigo’s nose was itching with a smile. Their mouths were locked, and every moment they breathed together, however clumsy they were in their hastiness, tasted like sweet relief.

As they practically dropped backwards onto the bed, Ichigo going down hard butt-first, Renji came down like a ton of bricks on top of him, and they laughed again – fucking fools, the both of them. Ichigo didn't even fucking care that they were gasping and sweating before anything had hardly even happened or that they were giggling like little boys even though they weren't actually smashed. It didn’t matter, it wasn't any less elating or… or _perfect._ Tonight, he is a man!

Renji was on him like he couldn’t believe he’d ever spent a day keeping them apart, like he finally agreed with Ichigo and saw why he’d thought it was so stupid to wait, to put off something this- this _right_ \- this _satisfying_ a single second longer. Ichigo was nearly overwhelmed by Renji’s enthusiasm, gripping back onto him and kissing him with all the fervor he could manage with the little breath he could get into his lungs. He wasn't used to Renji throwing in the full weight of his passion without hesitating, without pulling away or wincing- This was new, and he loved it.

Renji pressed him to the bed with a hungry wet groan, breaking their liplock with a smack and attacking Ichigo’s neck, his ear. Ichigo’s arms fell flat to the blankets and his eyes slipped closed, flickered, roved over the ceiling. An exhilarating thrill of nerves and excitement bowled through him, and he couldn’t help the punctuated gasp that escaped him, his eyes scrunching shut again.

Suddenly, he could hear Renji’s breath again, heavy and hard, and he realized that it was because he’d pulled back completely. Ichigo opened an eye and half-sat up on his elbows to see Renji sitting back on his knees, brow furrowed uncertainly. Ichigo immediately narrowed his eyes and huffed, as if to say ‘really?’ – because he knew where this was going, and it wasn't  _allowed_ to go there. Not on his birthday.

“‘re you sure about this?” Renji rasped, his mouth and eyes glittering, his hands clenching as though already hating being away from Ichigo’s body.

“Renji,” Ichigo said as calmly as he could when he was this breathless and turned on, going on to threaten in a dead-serious tone, “I’m gonna’ fucking kill you.”

“Okay, okay,” Renji immediately conceded, as if having just been waiting for that final blow for him to at last abandon his lingering guilt in favor of pursuing the gratification they’ve both been starving for. “Mostly kidding-” and just like that, he was back in Ichigo’s arms and they were rolling back into the bed.

“You’d better be,” Ichigo mumbled onto Renji’s mouth, which sought his as though it regretted even the momentary parting. Renji gave a long contented sigh, the rush of air fluttering Ichigo’s eyelashes, which made him snort.

Today, Ichigo was twenty. It was his birthday, and he and Renji had spent almost the whole day giving each other the eyes, bursting at the seams for those last hours to be over. For everyone else, the well wishes and pleasantries were about his coming of age, but for them, something much more – Ichigo felt – _important_ lay waiting, if only they could just bypass all of the social niceties and be alone together.

At least he hadn’t had to open that many gifts. Most of the people here went by the old traditions, and didn’t give gifts on birthdays. Some of the people who knew a little more about him and the human way _had_ gotten him something however. Rukia for example – even Ikkaku, fuck that guy, Ichigo was still a little mad at him. Byakuya too, had bestowed him with what looked like really fancy and expensive… stationary?

Anyways, he’d suffered through the entire day, shaking all over at the way Renji was looking at him and practically tearing his clothes off one piece at a time with his eyes. The fucker kept licking his lips and just _staring –_ he wasn’t subtle at all!

They’d stayed at Ichigo’s party that night for the bare minimum that wouldn’t be seen as rude, and then slipped off. The sun had set about an hour ago, and the minute they’d been left alone, _escaped_ , they were on each other like they were trying to suction each other’s faces off. They’d hardly made it home, but here they were, and now they were fucking around like nobody’s business.

Any idea of savoring it and going slow the first time they really got their hands on each other was thrown to the winds, gone, never to be seen again. Renji kissed Ichigo with all the desperation and hunger of a starving animal, half-wild and dangerous, as he tugged at his clothes, pulling them open, off, away- his hands returning eagerly to his exposed skin.

In truth, they didn’t make it that far, too eager now that it was finally time, now that they could finally get at each other, that they were far too occupied with kissing and pretty much mauling the other to do much else. Sealed at the mouth and with heavy grips in hair or around backs or necks, they settled on rutting against each other, hips bumping and thrusting together in a frenzy of desperate motion and heady gasps.

Ichigo could feel the hot flesh of Renji’s erection against his – at some point, Renji had pulled the both of them out of their underwear – but he could still feel the loose fabric of his hakama on his legs, not fully pulled down and tossed away. His fundoshi was still tied, merely pushed back enough to release his straining cock, not having known the touch of Renji's hand against it for more than the moment it took to coax it out and then slam it between their hard stomachs. Ichigo mental state was far too heightened with excitement and nerves for any thought of self-consciousness about their size difference or being exposed in front of someone else to bother him, although later when they weren’t so drunk off the _finally_ part and the spontaneity of the situation that it probably would.

Really though, _finally_ was what that orgasm felt like when they drove themselves to that point, shuddering and gasping against each other, sensitive to the point of pain, exhausted and completely sated despite the rather amateur method of achieving said orgasm. Finally, fucking _finally._ Ichigo had once thought – rather melodramatically – that he might literally die before Renji let him get laid… you know, freak accidents still happened even during a peacetime. Something might’ve happened and he might never have gotten to experience… _this!_

It was no big deal now though – everything was going to be okay. They were going to fuck any day now, maybe even later tonight. Renji didn’t have any excuse not to now that Ichigo’s twenty. Really, the whole waiting thing had been ridiculous anyways. Damn Ikkaku, thinks he’s funny, always fucking around like Renji doesn’t take his every word like it's gospel.  Ichigo still hasn’t forgiven that cue ball for the few hundred orgasms he could’ve had if Renji hadn’t gone on that dumbass abstinence crusade because of his goddamn ‘taking-advantage-of-the-young’ jabs three years ago. Seventeen wasn’t _that_ young… Well, maybe compared to a centuries-old undead soldier, but _never mind that!_

It doesn’t matter anymore. The wait is over. _Finally._

Ichigo came pretty quickly, but he didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed, so wiped out by it that he was still shuddering a bit, trying to push Renji off of him so that nothing could touch his dick for a while. In doing so, he saw that Renji had been so worked up, so equally excited, that at some point during Ichigo’s who-knows-how-long daze of pleasure and recovery, he’d cum too into the mess of their hastily and barely shoved aside clothes and patches of exposed flesh.

Ichigo let out a long contented sigh, his lips curling into a smile and his eyes fluttering shut with it. Renji lay partly atop him, still but for rumbling heaving gasps that pressed Ichigo down into the bed with each deep greedy inhale. He could feel Renji swallow and heard him breathing through his mouth, and let his hands rest atop Renji’s back, his head laying limp in the sweaty patch he’d made in the covers.

Renji sprawled out on him for a few more seconds and then to Ichigo's confusion, rolled off, settling some ways away on his butt, his knees up near his chest. Ichigo struggled to lift his head, his spine feeling like jelly from his lower back all the way to his neck. Renji faced mostly away from him, but it was clear he had his head in his hands, his eyes peeking through gaps in his fingers. His thumbs were over his ears.  Shit, what the fuck?

“What,” Ichigo gasped, still reeling from that thorough release – fuck, he felt like a towel that had been wrung out and slapped over a line, lame and limp, damp, not dry enough to soak up water and not wet enough to be worth squeezing out again. “Hey, come back, come-” he breathed, a hand reaching out and flopping back to the bed rather pathetically. _Fuck_ , he was still trembling a little.

“Oh god, what did I do?” Renji whisper-shrieked, practically squeaking.

“Huh?” Ichigo mumbled, mouth slack and lazy, head spinning, but still thoroughly agog at Renji’s weird- his weird… fuck, _weirdness._ He can’t think.

“Oh _god!_ ” Renji howled, completely horrified and seizing as if he’d been doused in slime and didn’t dare move lest he spread it to the surrounding furniture. Ichigo watched him for a confused second, then surmising that this was post-orgasm afterguilt, let out a long groan.    Really? _Still?_ Renji was way too melodramatic.      “Shit.  _Shit._ ”

“ _Oh for fuck’s sake, get back here,”_ Ichigo hissed, making a valiant effort to rouse himself out of his stupor and slither across part of the bed to throw an arm around Renji’s tense waist, tugging lightly to try and get him to come back, because that was about as much strength as his wobbly muscles had left. “Stop.”

“No, get off! Don’t be nice ta’ me, Ichigo,” Renji yelped as Ichigo gained a bit more strength and succeeded in tugging him an inch, then one more. Renji shook his head, and in what Ichigo thought was an entirely too dramatic fashion, declared sadly, “I don’t deserve ta’ look at your face!”

“What the fuck, are you on drugs or something?” Ichigo’s arms slackened, his head lying on the bed next to Renji’s butt and leg. He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, is this seriously still about that-”

Renji jerked out of his arms and glared at him, scowling with his eyes wide open, which took the effect right out of it, turning it into a sad watery frown. “I’m a _dirty man_ ,” he rasped in a whisper that could only be characterized as scandalized.

Ichigo stared at him with his mouth open for a moment, his limbs laying where they’d fallen when Renji had yanked away and thrown him off. “Are you serious?” he said after a few moments of calm in which Renji stared back and awaited – what, a condemnation? Ichigo narrowed his eyes and let his mouth flatten into an unimpressed line. Renji seriously needed to lay off the crazy pills.

At Ichigo’s clear dismissal of his concerns, Renji scowled for real that time and tried to get up, probably to go shut himself in the bathroom, or drink in silence and wallow in self-hatred, or wander the streets in the night, or any number of other cliche tragic things – but in a burst of frantic and completely-fed-up strength, Ichigo leapt for him, nabbed him around the middle, and tackled him to the bed. Renji, miffed and not wanting to be held or touched at all, fought him, and they both started tussling and grappling against each other in a way that nobody should while they have their dick out and still-wet cum on their stomach and their muscles pathetically weak and trembling – which they both did. Hopefully it was one of those things that would be funnier later.

For now, it wasn't funny at all. In fact, Ichigo was fucking livid. How fucking _dare_ Renji pull this shit now. What the hell was wrong with him, going to pieces like this on what should be the best night of his life?

Renji put up a token fight, but it was clear from the way Ichigo easily fought his way on top and sat on his stomach that he was mostly just mad that Ichigo wouldn't just leave him alone and let him go sulk, which was _not happening._  Ichigo, a bit shaky and maybe more prone to being emotional when he was still recovering from climaxing, grew so frustrated that Renji was doing this now, that he was- was-  This stupid, stupid-head! He just started punching him and hollered, “You fucker!” He fumbled a bit as Renji tried to cover his head and shove his arms back, wincing and growling, and Ichigo tried hitting him again, his aim miserable. “Why’d you have to ruin this, huh?!” He let his hands fall into his lap and sat on Renji’s chest, glaring down at him. “It’s my birthday, and my one wish- But you're just being _dumb!_ ”

Renji wouldn't even look at him, eyes sad and closed-off, mouth contorted in a snarl. Ichigo's fist paused, and for a moment he felt like he would explode from frustration and helplessness. There was... there was really no point, was there...

"Rrrrgh!" Scowling, Ichigo threw himself to the bed, folding his arms and growling, long and loud. Renji, still upset, rolled after him and grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to drag him up, maybe to shake him, to toss him around. Ichigo didn't help him, letting his weight drop against Renji's shaking arms as he continued raging at him. “You stupid idiot! _You baboon-faced butt-head monkey-brain!_ I finally get the one thing that I’ve been waiting for, that I’ve wanted, an' you, you-... It’s my fucking birthday, and you still-” Ichigo said loudly, voice getting tighter as he grew more distressed, “You know I've been waiting for this day, but you still had ta’ fucking _ruin_ things like always by being such a complete _fucktard!_ ”

Renji sputtered something along the lines of not even knowing what the hell that meant, but Ichigo kept going, feeling the crumminess he felt on the inside start to creep across his face and into his words. Maybe it was cruel and childish, but Ichigo doesn't even care what he was saying. He just wanted to hurt Renji back, make him feel as shitty as he did – because it's not fair, it's just not fair. He's waited so long, they've both tried so hard...

"I fucking hate when you do this, Renji, I fucking hate it, an' I thought for sure you wouldn't do it today, because you know how long... how-!" Ichigo's throat closed up inconveniently and he ignored the way Renji's hands had stalled, gone still against him. “Fuck you, Renji,” he grit out, “Why da’ you have to-” He cut off then, his voice wrenched tight and hot, “Why do you-”

Renji dragged him up sharply then, and Ichigo got a flash of his face, contorted by guilt and horrified surprise that things had taken such an unexpectedly awful turn, before he was pressed into his bare and still feverish chest. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry." Ichigo, not caring about much else but hiding his face for the few moments it would take to shove all that messy shit back inside, just burrowed his head against Renji’s pectoral – because it doesn’t fucking count if your eyes are shut or if no one looks at you, and it definitely doesn't count if you don’t think the words.

It didn’t count, and if Renji’s nipple was pressed against his eyeball or if he was sniffling a little from a runny nose or swallowing through a sore throat, no one had to know.

“I’m sorry. No, hey, shh. Shhh-sh-sh.” Renji hefted him up a little bit more and held his sweaty head against his shoulder, and Ichigo just let him, sniffing and letting the lingering rush of hormone-driven emotional response filter out of him. It didn’t count, it’s just because he got worked up after he came. He’s got a lot of weird shit running around in his blood and wreaking havoc right now. He’s definitely not- like-… _No_ , he’s not. Never mind if Renji would only feel that bad that he’d apologize like that and hold him if he _was_.

When he was sufficiently assured that his voice won’t betray him, he croaked grumpily, “You suck.”

“I know.”

“You suck.” Ichigo sniffed grossly and wiped at his leaky nose, feeling sulky and embarrassed. “Dang you, Renji.”

“I know, Ichigo, I know. You’re right. ‘M sorry.”

“Why'd you do that?”

“I dunno’,” Renji sighed, peeling Ichigo off of him and ducking a bit to try and check him, but Ichigo scrubbed at his eyes and told him to fuck off for a minute, don’t look at him, god, stop- “I dunno.’ I dunno’ what’s wrong with me,” Renji muttered miserably, resting his chin atop Ichigo’s sweat-stiff hair, giving Ichigo enough time to wipe his nose and eyes like he was erasing a mark with one of those shitty erasers that just smudged the mark in worse. “I keep freakin’ myself out.”

“Today was the day when you were supposed to be over this,” Ichigo grumbled, breaking away from Renji and flopping onto his back, arms thrown over his face. Now that things had calmed down a bit, he was starting to feel sort of embarrassed for that little blip that he was not going to acknowledge had ever happened, because he doesn’t- doesn’t, uhhh… It’s not like he thought Renji was gonna’ make fun of him or that he was ashamed of it, he just…  It didn’t fucking count, okay?!

Renji gave a long sigh and eased down next to him on his side, head resting on one hand. “I guess it’s still hangin’ around. Didn't mean ta' flip my bricks like that... I just...” He picked at the bedding and didn’t look at Ichigo, who lay there and peeked through the gaps in his arms until the air didn’t feel cold around his eyes anymore.

“…”

He let Renji fidget for a while, until finally, he came out with it on his own, defensively. “You're just so much younger than-"

Ichigo let out a long exasperated groan, because he was _not_ going to discuss this again. He can't believe Renji's still bothered by that, even now that he's of age. "Renji, I swear to god-"

"-I know you don't easily accept that fact, but-"

"Enough already, I told you I don't care about age. You're the only one who's bothered by-"

"-Not the one who has to feel like a monster every second of every day-"

"-Feel like I'm the only one who's trying so hard, while you're just stressing out over-"

"Don't pull that card like I don't make any effort! You always act like you're the only one who's suffering, and it's-"

" _Renji!_ " Ichigo finally snapped, cutting through the argument. "We've gone over _all_ of this a  _billion times."_

" _So?_ " he sputtered, "That doesn't mean it's not still buggin' me! It doesn't mean I don't still think about it all the time - it doesn't fucking mean it doesn't keep me from _sleeping!"_ Ichigo fell silent and let him finish, frowning sadly. "Maybe it doesn't matter to you that we have an age gap, and maybe it doesn't matter to you what people think about it, but it matters to me. It matters to me if they're right or not."

Ichigo calmly raised a brow. "And what if everyone in the world told you it was wrong? What if _Byakuya_ didn't approve, huh? What if you weren't supposed to see me anymore because it was against nature or whatever? An' Ikkaku an' Rukia an' all the rest of the people whose opinions you care about, what if they all thought you were sick?" Ichigo paused almost uncertainly. "Would you give me up?"

" _No, never_ ," Renji jumped in immediately. "There's nothing that-..." He bit his lip and let his eyes drop. "Point made."

"Yeah? Good," Ichigo noted quietly, "so then let me share half a' your worries... an' try not to think like that so much."

Renji almost seemed soothed for a moment, but soon he began fidgeting again, until he finally burst. "... It’s not easy, okay?” he explained hotly, “It’s not easy ta’ do somethin’ ya’ve told yourself was bad n’ _wrong_ for the last forever.” Ichigo let his arms rest down on his chest and eyed Renji rather reservedly. “‘ts not easy ta’ want somethin’ you’re _not supposed to_ an’ then tell yourself that you can have it if you just work hard enough, if you just be good enough.” Renji’s voice hitched, and Ichigo half sat up, brow scrunching, not liking how broken and lost this line of thought was becoming. “If you just wait for a long enough time-”

“Is this about the Rukia thing?”

“No, it’s not that,” Renji huffed, sounding frustrated more with himself than anything. He drummed his fingers against the bed, practically humming with nervous energy. “I keep wondering if I’ve been selfish,” he admitted begrudgingly, like he knew Ichigo was going to be mad at him but still thought it anyways.

“Still?” Ichigo squeaked incredulously, because like, what the fuck? “Renji-”

“I _know._ Okay? I know,” Renji insisted, rubbing at his eyes. “I know you’ve told me a thousand times, but sometimes I still think about that. It’s like this thing that… just won’t go away. Inside’a’ me, always just sittin’ around.”

“Aren’t you happy about this?” Ichigo asked, fumbling around with his nails, hands near his sticky belly button. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Yeah,” Renji gave him a wry smile then. “ts’ like’m’ having this crazy dream.” He pinched Ichigo’s nose between his knuckles, causing him to snort and slap at his hand. “But I feel… bad.” He grimaced, practically wincing around the words.

“Why the fuck- Why _would_ you for?” Ichigo sputtered, brain scrambled. Guilt-stricken, Renji bit his tongue and his eyes flicked around almost frantically, as if he knew he’d been caught.

“Renji, is this about the age thing still? I’m _twenty_ now, you don’t have to feel bad anymore,” Ichigo assured, but didn’t sound confident, because he hadn’t thought… he hadn’t thought Renji would still have doubts after today. He’d thought his struggle of the past two and a half years and Renji’s even longer ten-thousand day pains of liking him and kicking himself for it – he’d thought that was all over with. He’d thought everything would be fine now.

“No, it’s not that,” Renji denied, “Well… not entirely.” He raised his eyes to Ichigo’s almost shyly, and Ichigo had to marvel for a moment how far they’d come in being able to talk to each other, to not put up a front of surliness, gruffness, denial of feelings – it had been miles, obviously. Once, the words and emotions had been too hard to force out, but now they were simply too complex to express in words. It was a mark of those miles that instead of saying much more, Renji swallowed and reached for his hand, closing his fingers around it in a slow deliberate gesture and bringing it to his heart, letting the action tell the truth. “Ichigo, you…” He pressed Ichigo’s hand there a bit more firmly, his own hand enveloping it.

Ichigo didn’t dare move, feeling the broad plane of Renji’s chest beneath his palm, rising and falling, warm, and pounding steadily against his flesh. “…” His breath whispered through his lips lightly, wispily.

“For me, you’re…” Renji swallowed and started again, his dark red-brown eyes piercing into Ichigo’s like sunlight through mesh net. “Since I've met you, everything's fallen into place. Ever since that time we got Rukia back, it's been like that. I feel... different... like I finally figured things out... It all makes sense. I know where'm' supposed to be, what I'm s'posed'a' do. Once you were gone, I knew for sure, it was you who did that. You're the one who got me to make everything right. Ichigo..." He tightened his grip on Ichigo's hand and paused momentarily in hesitation. "I don’t wanna’ be anywhere you’re not,” he confessed in a hush, and Ichigo didn’t breathe.

Thoroughly pacified and completely swept off his feet, Ichigo's trance broke when Renji sharply shook his head. His words came out in a rush then, hurried and self-deprecating, angry, “I can’t believe I’m tellin’ you that. I’ve felt so fucking selfish for so long now, Ichigo, you don’t even…”

“Why would you feel selfish for-” His hand twitched, out of his control, against Renji’s chest, and Renji holds it there tighter, his grip enclosing Ichigo's knuckles and fingers warmly. “-Liking me?” he finished, the words cracking and choking halfway through, because they both knew what it really meant, what Renji was really saying. It was why everything inside Ichigo felt like warm glop even without the real words, because they both _knew._  It was this stupid game they played, even now, after making those miles. They had these rules of not saying it straight out. They’d done this dance since the first day, when Renji had told Ichigo he would miss him if he left, but never that he didn’t want to be apart, not ‘don’t go’, not ‘I don’t want you to leave,’ not 'stay,  _please.'_  Only the suggestion was allowed, the insinuation, the feeling but not the words.

But they’ve never been good at following rules for very long.

Renji’s voice came out low then, like he was telling a secret that even now he didn’t want to let out, wanted nothing more than to hide forever from Ichigo, keep it away, shameful, hide it, never let it see the light of day- “Every time you go to the Living World…” He let his eyes drop and cleared his throat, continuing in a soft rasp, “I get freaked out that you might wanna’ stay there – I’ve thought about that ever since the first day I told you… you know what I told you.” Ichigo nodded. Renji grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut like he was awaiting the blow of what he was about to say. “Well, every time I get freaked out like that, I think of all these ways I could convince you ta’ stay here, an' I fucking hate myself for it.”

“Aw, no,” Ichigo comforted.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you- … Look, it’s messed up, I know it is, an’ I tell myself not ta’ get in your way, not to try an’ keep you in Seireitei.”

“With you,” Ichigo whispered, eyes widening, his fingertips pressing into Renji’s skin until he was able to feel his own pulse along with the heavy drum-beat.

“I hate when you go.” Renji let out a huff of a laugh. “But then when you’re here an’ I see you missing home – and shut it, I know you get homesick!” he cut Ichigo off before he could speak to deny it, and it was a good thing he had, because Ichigo had already opened his mouth do so. They knew each other too well. Ichigo let his mouth close with a glare, and Renji smirked a bit wryly. “Ichigo, seein’ what you do, how you look at me, how you waste your young life,” Renji sighed tiredly, frowning, “I just feel like shit. I feel like the most selfish man alive.”

“No one’s made my choices but me, Renji,” Ichigo countered, and if his voice was a bit harsh, it had been meant to be firm, because he felt like Renji listened to him best if stayed calm but still sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

Renji talked through what he said, closing his eyes, as if conceding to Ichigo’s point, “But whenever I felt like that, I’d tell myself I’d work harder, I’d get stronger, ‘till I deserved ta’ be selfish.” Ichigo grimaced, letting it turn into a smile halfway through, because that was so like Renji, letting his guilt and shame and insecurity motivate him. It was sort of amazing how he used the worst thing about him to drive the best thing about him, which was his determination, his discipline, loyalty, his never-give-up-ness.

“Ya’ know when I talked about carryin’ you?” Renji mumbled, his head resting on his upper arm, his hand dangling over his own ear. Ichigo’s own cheek lay on the crook of his elbow, wrist under his head, but he nodded, his itchy stiff hair making a noise like tall dry grass brushing against running legs. He was glad he'd gotten Renji talking, because as much as the big dope sometimes fought it, he always felt better afterwards. “I don’t wanna’ carry you, Ichi.”

Ichigo met his eyes curiously, and let Renji play with the salt-coarse hair of his sideburn, scratching at it with one finger, the way he always did. “I wanna’ see you do it all on your own, because when yer’ proud a’ yourself, it’s a sight,” Renji hummed, eyes warm and smiling as if he were imagining it, before they became sad again. “I wanna’ see you have everything you want. I don’t want you ta’ hold yourself back because of me. I don’t want you ta' miss out on things. Even things that a crazy human kid’s gotta’ do that I can’t be a part of.” He put his hand to Ichigo’s cheek, rubbing the delicate skin beneath his eye, and Ichigo let his free hand rest on Renji’s elbow, weighing his arm down.

“No matter how badly it’d hurt ta’ repeat the past an’ let you go your own way, I’d be so much happier ta’ see you doin’ what you want.”

That was all wonderfully tragic and selfless, but-   “Renji-”

“Because for you, I… I just…” Renji let his mouth close and looked at Ichigo for a time, letting go of his hand. It stayed there on his chest, but was chilled and looser without the warm grasp to hold it there. “You do somethin’a’ me.”

And Ichigo got it, he got it better than he’d ever gotten anything else. The guilt and the selfishness and the desire to see him fly, but the pain at his loss, the wondering, the torturous thought of _what if he’d decided the other way and gone home in the first place_ , the horrible wondering of whether he’d altered Ichigo’s life somehow, kept him from having that fucking sandcastle- if he’d wrecked it for him, if he’d stolen him from someone else, if he’d hurt him or fucked him up in the head – but the overwhelming urge to seize him and hold him close despite all this, because after everything, after all the shit and the waiting and the fighting, the danger and the near loss of life, didn’t they deserve a little happiness, a little comfort, something that felt right in the moment- couldn’t they make it work, couldn’t that be good enough, just as equally beautiful and wonderful as the sandcastle life with the fence and the kids and the wife that looked so eerily, horribly similar – a heartbreaking parallel that wasn’t quite perfect, but almost?

Couldn’t it be just as good, just as nice, to rip that parallel to strips, to start over fresh with something new and crazy, no matter the price, no matter how selfish it was in some aspects – wasn’t it just _wonderful_ and marvelous in others? In the rest? Maybe on the whole? When it came down to it, was that really selfish at all? Did that amazing thing that Renji was talking about that was making Ichigo feel this happy, did that thing really make Renji a monster? Did it make any sense for them to fight it?

Wasn’t that what life, what growing up was about – figuring out shit, testing, going with what feels right, what makes you happiest? Wasn’t it time to do something that was just theirs? Something special, just for Ichigo, just for Renji, and no one else?

And Ichigo got it. He got the sad and guilty and satisfied look in Renji’s eyes, the resigned look, the relieved and happy look, the wild fragile curious glint there in his eyes. He got it and he cherished it, wanted to hold onto it, no matter how fleeting, because Renji does something to him too. And he gets it.

“Yeah,” Ichigo rasped, fingers curling into Renji’s heart.

“D’you get what’m’ sayin’?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo swallowed and tried to smile. “Thanks for the honesty,” he half-teased, and wished they'd had this conversation years ago. Renji gave a dry laugh, sidling closer to him and slinging a leg over Ichigo’s hip, snuggling his head up to his with a long rumbling sigh.

"Thanks for the reassurance. Don't feel so shitty anymore."

"Good, that was the goal."

“How’d _you_ know this was the right decision, huh?” He rested his cheek on Ichigo’s head, his voice buoyant enough to significantly lighten the mood and Ichigo’s heart. “Or didja’ just go with it without thinkin’ much?” That was only half a joke, and Ichigo could hear the underlying trepidation in the words, could feel the slight tensing of Renji’s arm where it lay between them.

“Me for you,” Ichigo mumbled, keeping his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look at Renji’s searching probing eyes while he said it. “I knew right away. Was so easy. Feels right.”

Expecting some sort of response, Ichigo ended it there, but when Renji let the silence rest for three seconds, four, he spoke again. “’ts how I know. That’s how I do everything I did- Rukia, Aizen, all of it,” he tried to explain. “I didn't have doubts. An' this: you feel right. So I don’t worry about anything else. ‘Cause I’ve got you ta’ drag me through on your shitty back.” He peeked an eye open. Renji was staring at him rather mildly, one eyebrow raised in what seemed like either thought or flat-out confusion.

“Still guilty?” he prodded.

Having completely misread, Ichigo had the breath knocked out of him in surprise when Renji seized him and rolled on top of him, kissing him with a low growl and humming onto his lips. Ichigo took a minute to blink, startled, before he began to kiss back, sighing in relief. Finally.

– _again_.

Once Renji had thoroughly turned his tongue to rubber, he popped their mouths apart with a wet smack, and then panted, “You _sure_ you're sure?"

"Renji!"

"Okay, okay, I'm only messin' with you," Renji laughed. "Promise that was the last time I'll bring it up." He kissed at Ichigo's sideburn, then his ear. "Sorry I fucked up your birthday.” Ichigo would’ve bopped Renji on the head for apologizing for something yet again, but instead turned on the charm that he knew he had but his insecurity and shyness usually kept inside.

Quirking his lip up and letting his eyebrows loosen, he suggested rather tentatively, “Well… it’s not over yet.”

Renji smiled a little in disbelief, as if he thought Ichigo was pulling his leg. It was understandable, considering Ichigo didn't usually try and act sexy - apparently Renji liked it, if his incredulous grin was anything to go by. Testing the waters, as if he thought too heavy a reciprocation would scare Ichigo off, Renji hesitantly mumbled, “I’ll have to make it up to you then,” his head popping up, eyes brightening. Ichigo smiled more, causing Renji to give a grin and a gusty sigh. “Ugh. Sorry my dumb hangups wrecked the last couple years. We coulda’ had longer.”

“I haven’t had any regrets,” Ichigo noted thoughtfully, twisting his lip. “No matter how crazy I got because a’ you,” he muttered, which made Renji hum.

“I dunno’, I stretched this out for so long, an’ now that it’s time, it doesn’t feel real.” He rubbed the tip of his nose on Ichigo’s, dodging when Ichigo tipped his head up like he would try to bite him. Ichigo grinned when Renji darted back. “It should, but… it doesn’t…” Renji ghosted his hands down Ichigo’s sides with a frustrated and shuddery breath.

“Ichigo, it’s been so hard,” he whispered, his lips just above Ichigo’s, “I know you don’t think it was for me, but it fucking was.” He grit his teeth and lay still, relishing the small space between their mouths, the breath rolling back and forth through them. “Every damn day.”

Some of the greatest thrills and woes of Ichigo’s life in the past few years were when Renji would go on the rare excursion of admitting some of what he felt, some of what he wanted to _do_ – which explained why Renji's heartfelt confession a few minutes back had turned him to melted butter. Usually Renji would keep his sexual and romantic desires locked up, because it wasn’t right to say that shit to a kid, to come on too strong like that to a kid, but sometimes Renji would break and it would all come pouring out, and it would give Ichigo the biggest and most wonderful scare, the sharpest rush of excitement –

“I see you an’ I want ya’ ta’ jump inna’ my arms so I can love you like mad,” Renji breathed, and Ichigo felt himself getting hot all over again. Nothing gets him like Renji does when he talks like this. “It’s been so hard,” he croaked, eyes yearning and dark, his tongue slowly dragging along his lips and prompting a mirror reaction from Ichigo, “It’s been so hard tryin’a’ hold myself back.”

“Then don’t,” Ichigo whispered.

Renji broke immediately, whatever thread of hesitation or resistance that was keeping him at bay giving in like water through paper – he _melted_ onto him like he didn’t know how he’d ever lived without doing this, how he’d ever breathed when the air hadn’t been shared between them.

Their movements were slower this time – Ichigo wound a leg through Renji’s, and Renji grabbed it, pulling it further through until they slid together as smoothly and snugly as interlocking chainlinks. Renji held Ichigo’s face in his hands, palms against his cheeks to better kiss him, and Ichigo’s hands went to Renji’s lower back, bringing his hips closer, more firmly against his own. They rock together and gasp, grunt, groan, and Ichigo’s hands were everywhere, scrabbling, gripping, relishing the feeling of muscles that were hard but still fleshy enough that they had a little give, enough to squeeze. Renji heaved and shuddered with it, kissing him, his breath whining through his nose.

“You can touch me,” Ichigo gasped, drawing back only enough to be able to use his tongue and talk against Renji’s wet mouth, still mostly kissing him. “Touch me, Renji. C’mon, You’re s’posed’a’ be tha’ one who knows what he’s doin’.”

As if having been waiting to be prompted to do such, Renji rolled onto him with an eager surge of his torso and hips, pinning Ichigo beneath him and ravishing his mouth enough that Ichigo’s eyes fell closed again with a sigh. “Ahh, Ichigo,” Renji moaned, rocking his arousal against Ichigo’s thigh, their legs interlocked, “Ichigo.”

“What?” he breathed back, rubbing his hard dick against Renji’s hip with frantic yet uncertain thrusts.

“Hold onto me.” And he does, and they kissed until Ichigo’s head spun and flipped and reeled, and everything was warm and tingly. Renji’s hands ran over him, never staying in one spot too long, as if he was indecisive about which part to touch and grab first, which he wanted the most. Everywhere they went, they left warm trails behind.

Breaking apart with a heady breath, Renji slid a hand down between them and took Ichigo’s cock in hand, cupped the bulge that had been hastily tucked away, and pulled it back out to join his own. Renji pressed their cocks together and gripped them in one warm strong hand, stroking them slowly in a tight grip.

“Renji?”

“Haah?” Renji’s voice echoed slightly, his mouth hollowed out as Ichigo bit at his lip and let his tongue back into his mouth. Renji gave a dry sob as Ichigo tried sucking at it as Renji sometimes did to him. His grip around their cocks stalled and clenched, squeezing almost unbearably tight, before haltingly beginning again, the rhythm jerky and distracted.

“Next time you start feeling guilty?”

“Yeah?” Renji replied, a bit more lucidly, but still mostly occupied with kissing at Ichigo’s lips and cheek, eyes slipping closed.

“I’m gonna’ punch you in the balls.”

Renji’s eyes opened, and he gave Ichigo this look, and suddenly they were both laughing, and kissing, rolling over until Ichigo was mostly on top. They laughed and panted as Renji’s grip around their erections grew more insistent, his motions more focused.

They kiss until they’re more just gasping onto each other’s lips, and Ichigo doesn’t know how they ever stayed apart, doesn’t know how they ever waited a day in their lives, how they ever survived away from each other. He didn’t want to know another day where he couldn’t touch Renji, where he couldn’t have this.

Afterwards as they lay there together, a panting sweaty mess, Ichigo let his eyes rest closed and just breathed, exhausted and loose all over.  Renji tried to pick himself up – at some point they’d rolled again and Renji had ended up lying on Ichigo. Every muscle shaking and trembling, Renji lifted himself off of Ichigo, but his shoulders buckled under his own weight. Hair trailing against Ichigo’s cheek, he looked down into Ichigo’s eyes and gasped out huskily, “Fuck.” He swallowed and gave a half-drowned delirious laugh. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

“Hah,” Ichigo hummed, smirking tiredly. “Sucker,” he laughed.

“Pff’!” Renji sputtered, all the air he had left in his body rushing out of his puffed cheeks in an amused burst of laughter. And it was fucking hilarious, because they both knew Renji had already told him that shit for real like three years ago, and that saying the words out loud like that now was a joke, like loving taiyaki or dogs or tacky sunglasses. The real words, the real feeling had already been shared a long long time ago when he’d once asked Ichigo if he knew, if he knew what he was trying to say, what he was saying but wouldn’t say, couldn’t articulate but could perfectly convey somehow anyways –

Ichigo just smiled and smiled, because he knew. Yes, he knew.

Renji snorted again. “Changed my mind,” he mumbled amusedly, laying himself down next to Ichigo, body heaving with still calming breaths.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm.” Renji leaned towards him to place a kiss on his lips, intended to be a simple peck but inevitably melting into something harder to break, harder to stop. It didn’t end until they were wrapped up together again, gross and slimy and sweaty and smiling. Renji’s hands rested at Ichigo’s back, Ichigo resting atop Renji from toes to chest, his head lifted to gaze down into his face.

“Good birthday?” Renji grinned, and didn’t even complain when Ichigo dug his elbows – pointy bony stabby elbows, as he often grumbled – right into his meaty chest, supporting his head with his hands. “Now that you’ve had your way with me?” he teased.

“Now that you’ve stopped bein’ a whiney baby, you mean?” Ichigo raised an eyebrow as Renji let out a mock-offended breath, like he couldn’t believe Ichigo’s sass. Renji rolled him over onto his back, held above him by his arms, his wild and messy hair dangling down around them.

“You won’t be talkin’ so big once I make you a man.” Ichigo gave him an unimpressed look, but couldn’t hide the goosebumps on his neck, which just made Renji smirk widely and lean down to his ear.

"I am a man," he mumbled petulantly. "'m twenty. Man."

“That's what you think. Just wait 'till I have my way. Only thing you’ll be sayin’ is my name on endless loop. _Oh, Renji, you’re so good, do it again_ ,” he imitated, nuzzling his ear.

Ichigo snorted. “You talk a lotta’ talk, big mouth.” Renji smiled back, that smile he always did when he thought Ichigo was funny, strange, hard to understand but amusing for it - the smile that contained those perfectly encapsulated words that didn't need to be said and the feelings that didn't need to be explained.

“I’ll show you a big mouth.”

Best. Birthday. Ever.

. . .  
  
_I love everything you do - when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's so glad all that dumb shit is over. Right now it seemed so far away that he could hardly even remember how it started - Wait, yeah... That dumb fight.


	4. Two

_Until your breathing stop- Until your breathing stops- Until your- Forever...  
. . . _

Ever since that clumsy confession and almost-kiss under the tree in the open street, he and Renji are together a lot. Ichigo hung around his office when he was working, and they sparred and caroused with the others when he’s not. Some people were still using the war’s end as an excuse to drink now that all the memorial services are over – namely Squad Eleven.

Renji hasn’t had a lot of free time lately. For one, Byakuya’s an absolute slave driver on a good day and Renji, ever the diligent employee, eats it right up, and for two, now that things are settling down, Kyoraku-jii has pushed some major reforms. Not to mention all the repair work to the infrastructure and the recruits being trained to replace those lost. All the lieutenants are hauling ass around here.

Doesn’t stop Ichigo from lounging around his office and practicing releasing his reiatsu in more controlled amounts. Still stupid and entirely too hard. It was funny to make Renji’s ponytail stand up though.

He couldn't get away with that shit at Rukia's office. She made him work - which, y'know, was also nice too. Sometimes he gave Renji a break to de-frizz and visited her instead, but mainly he's been sticking to Renji like glue.

Renji sure hadn't been on board with the idea of him coming to the office with him at first, since he was sure that the amazing and completely perfect ' _Kuchiki-Taichou'_ would see Ichigo being there as disruptive, but after he hadn't been able to physically _make_ Ichigo leave, he'd come around. And hey, it all worked out. Ichigo got to study the academy's books at his own speed and Renji got to do all his lieutenant-stuff, and either of them was free to occasionally look up and start blabbing about something stupid that had happened that day, or tell a joke, or say something to tick the other off. All that said, they didn't distract each other from their work half as much as Ichigo had expected. He was actually pretty proud of how well they were cohabiting. On top of being with him for most of the day, he'd been staying the nights at Renji's house too, and it seemed like the more time they spent together, the more they mellowed out and the less their bickering turned into  _fighting._

So yeah – they’ve been trying dating for about a week and a half now. Ichigo has no point of reference of how things are supposed to be, but he’s feeling great.  

Other than this insecure inexperienced voice in his ear telling him not to fuck it up, Ichigo’s been really up. He could see Rukia and Renji and his family whenever he wanted, he has a new boyfriend, Zangetsu was loving all the sun – things were looking good for him. The war’s over, everyone he loves is safe, and it’s time for a new life to start.

He was especially excited about the new boyfriend part. Honestly, he’d expected more to change between them, but so far, not much was different. For all the anger and embarrassment Renji had expressed in confessing that… yeah… and for all Ichigo’s shyness and surprise, their day to day interactions were more or less the same now that it was all out there.

They still annoyed each other quite a bit, but it had grown more affectionate, more teasing – Ichigo figured that was just the result of their friendship having developed through fighting Yhwach together and all the training they’d done together before going to the Royal Palace, not to mention all the other hardships they’d faced before. The squabbling that had gone on all throughout those times had not stopped.

Renji too – Ichigo hadn’t quite known what to expect from him after such a surprising and unanticipated admission, but he's still been the same old confusing blend of goofy dork and shitty hard-ass. He still did all the normal things like tease Ichigo and try to make him feel dumb, but sometimes now he’d get this thoughtful and almost tender expression on his face. Sometimes when Renji went to shove him or ruffle his hair, he’d be a little gentle for a second.

And of course, when they were alone at night and Renji was sitting up late, doing reports, and Ichigo was lying awake with him – when Ichigo was brave enough, they would touch, just a little. Ichigo would approach as one would a partially domesticated animal, afraid to spook Renji off. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this was happening, and every time he initiated, there was a moment of doubt, of panic that Renji hadn't really meant it or that Ichigo had misinterpreted somehow, and that Renji would reject the advance. But of course, Renji never did, and then Ichigo would be free to let their fingers lay together, or to rest his head against Renji's folded leg. The still of the night would only be interrupted by the strokes of Renji’s ink brush and Ichigo’s soft breaths, maybe the occasional scratch of Renji’s thumb through Ichigo’s hair.

At those times, Ichigo felt both so happy that he might burst, and more contented, more peaceful than he'd ever imagined he could feel.

Every time he was frozen with a sudden electric shock of terror that he'd made it too clear that he didn't know what he was doing, that he was an inexperienced kid– every time he worried in some stupid ridiculous moment of paranoia that Renji wouldn't like him anymore, then Renji would smile at him, or chuck him on the chin, or ruffle his hair, and that peace just took all of those worries away. He'd be left without a care or trouble in the world, from something as small as that.  

Ichigo didn't make it a point of being constantly aware of his expression, but these days he wouldn't be surprised if he seemed constantly dazed, maybe even smiling. It was surprising that the entire world didn't know that Kurosaki Ichigo had it bad.

Well true, a couple other people _did_ know about their relationship – and Ichigo even hesitated to call it that yet. It still felt so new and fragile that he didn't want to bring it to light for fear that it might disintegrate and die like one of those exotically beautiful deep-sea creatures brought up to the surface. This was just _theirs_ for now, to be felt out and explored slowly and on their own time. Even Renji seemed hesitant to make a wrong step from the way he hadn’t outright said the words.

But Ichigo knew. They both knew.

Nevertheless, some others had caught on, because although he tried to play it cool, Renji had inevitably grown excited and let an insinuation slip, which was all certain people needed – namely, Renji’s ‘parents’, Squad Eleven’s resident not-so-ambiguously gay duo, who had nurtured Renji and known him for long enough that they knew what it meant when he said he and Ichigo were ' _getting to know each other better_.' Ichigo hadn’t talked to them for the last little while, but Renji had said they knew about 'them,' so, there’s that.

Ichigo was pretty sure he'd tell his family next time he went home, and although they were important, the most important person of all still hadn't been informed, and really, she should've found out first.

Rukia didn’t know yet – at least Ichigo thought she didn’t. They haven’t had a chance to say anything because she’s been running around like a headless chicken trying to keep her squad together, and Renji hadn’t wanted to add undue stress or just mention it offhand – he hadn't said so, but Ichigo knew it was important to him that Rukia be told in a meaningful way. At first, Ichigo had suggested sending a Hell Butterfly but they’d both agreed that would just mean a whack to the head later. She’d probably end up guessing on her own; Ichigo has a bad poker face.

Ichigo was pretty sure Byakuya had his suspicions too, but who knew with that guy anyways. There was just something in the way he suggested that Ichigo stop distracting his lieutenant from his work that made Ichigo think he knew something was going on.

Whatever. The only thing Ichigo was really focused on now was avoiding Kenpachi as much as possible. He felt bad, you know, because the guy was lonely without Yachiru, but he didn't feel _that_ bad.

He and Renji were near the Eleventh’s barracks, which had been the site of a nightly block party for the last month now, including tonight. If Ichigo had hoped to avoid Squad Eleven and their voracious attempts to recruit him, having a boyfriend who considered them his family certainly didn’t help matters. Apparently they'd finally stopped being mad at Renji for transferring squads, and to get reacquainted, Renji had gone over there on a few of their crazier nights. One thing Ichigo can say is that those guys know how to have a good time, that’s for sure.

He’d seen Rangiku and Hisagi around, along with most of Squad Eleven, Kenpachi included. There were fights and drinking contests going on and Ichigo was glad he’d deflected most of the undue attention he was always given when he was around these guys. Earlier, Renji had saved him from getting dragged into an arm-wrestle against Kenpachi, which inevitably would’ve turned into a full-body wrestle. Currently, he and Renji were lounging around in the courtyard near the Captain’s quarters, several others drinking nearby, two being Ikkaku and Yumichika.

Renji cradled his recovering arm in his lap, freshly healed courtesy of Yumichika, and drank from a wide saucer. Ichigo had his set in the grass nearby. He wasn't a drinker, really – c’mon, he’s underage – and he didn’t want to know what kind of trouble he’d get into around these guys if he got smashed. Plus, although they said it was ‘the good stuff’, to Ichigo, it tasted like gasoline _._

Renji however seemed to have no problem drinking it, as he and Ikkaku had been passing bottles back and forth for about twenty minutes now. Renji at least bothered to pour it into his glass, while Ikkaku just guzzled it from the bottle. Renji was starting to get a little rosy around the cheeks and nose by now, and Ichigo bit back a smirk every time Renji laughed. He sounded like a little kid and scrunched his eyes and nose up like one.

Renji finished telling the story of their heroism for the fifty-billionth time, which then ended with Ikkaku calling bullshit and telling him not to get a big head, despite the fact that he was the one who'd made him recount the whole thing in the first place. Ichigo hid a smirk when Renji scowled and suggested that Ikkaku drink some more, since most people know that in the early stages Ikkaku is an angry assholish drunk, but eventually after enough shots, he’ll get lazier and settle down. He’d drunk so much already that one more drink or so should put him over.

Not one to deny alcohol, Ikkaku took the jug back and slammed it, causing Ichigo to snort quietly and grin at Renji, who tried not to smile back and put a finger to his mouth.

Seeming to pick up on and approve of the exchange, Yumichika primly cleared his throat and rubbed a drop of alcohol off the rim of his glass before sucking it off. “My, you two get along so well these days,” he mentioned with a suggestive raise to his eyebrow, which just caused Renji to smile more and attempt to simultaneously conceal it and forcibly rub it off with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, so?” Ichigo shot back rather defensively, suddenly aware of how he was lounging with his legs stretched out, one of his feet resting against Renji’s bent knee. He was getting so used to doing stuff like that already.

Ichigo immediately regretted his revealing outburst, as Yumichika raised his eyebrows and smiled in a rather worrying fashion. Shit.

“No need to shout. I just noticed how cozy you look together tonight.”

Ikkaku finished emptying his bottle and tossed it away with a smack of his lips and a grunt. He settled back against the engawa behind him, his arms up on the wooden planks, and there we go, no more annoyingly touchy Ikkaku who screeches every time he loses Jankenpo. More like a lazy sleepy bear… who occasionally gets embarrassingly blunt.

Like now, for instance. As if Yumichika’s teasing wasn’t enough.

“Yeah, Abarai, pretty cute,” Ikkaku grunted, raising a sharp eyebrow as he smirked widely, “Dint’ anyone ever tell ya’ not ta’ corrupt the young?”

Ichigo growled and half-sat up, which just made Ikkaku chuckle a bit and search around for more beer. Surprisingly, Renji laughed too, causing Ichigo to calm and look to him. He eased back slowly. He hated being teased, but if Renji didn't deem the offhand joke worthy of taking sincerely, then maybe he could let it go... in a few minutes.

After some time spent crossing his arms and glaring around at them grumpily, Ikkaku in particular, Ichigo settled down and watched the antics of the Zaraki Corps play out around him. He vaguely listened on as Yumichika and Renji talked about lieutenancy and Ikkaku and Yumichika’s new seat adjustments due to Yachiru’s physical absence. Yumichika kept noting things to Ikkaku that Renji deemed important about being a lieutenant, but Ikkaku just shrugged or grunted in response.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow and snorted quietly to himself, watching as once again, Ikkaku pretty much ignored Yumichika’s suggestion that he pay attention to Renji’s advice in favor of draining a bottle and making a long-distance shot with it, aiming for the back of some guy’s head – probably in the hopes to instigate some kind of fight over there. Ichigo figured either Ikkaku didn’t think much of being lieutenant – he knew that the guy hadn’t really ever cared to move up in the ranks – or he was just making a point of not taking the advice of his junior.

Or you know, it could be that Ikkaku was just kind of an asshole sometimes.

Yumichika then mentioned that he was surprised Ichigo hadn't been given a high ranking position in a needy squad, which was a bit banal, because at this point Ichigo felt like he’d heard almost identical musings thousands of times from who knows how many people. It wasn’t that Ichigo wasn’t a hard worker or up to the task, but he was kind of like Ikkaku in that he didn’t like rules. Sure, he'd been a good student and he respected the law, but some of the things he’s most proud that he’s done came about because he’d refused to follow Seireitei’s laws, such as coming to rescue Rukia and then going against Yamamoto’s orders and retrieving Orihime from Las Noches. Nah, a day job here isn’t for him. He believed in the ideal justice that Soul Society stood for, the kind Byakuya tried to uphold, but that shit had exceptions, and Ichigo didn’t want to have to answer to anyone if the day came when he had to fight for what was right again.

That doesn’t all mean that he doesn’t love this place, that he doesn’t believe in what the Seireitei stands for. He’s just not a soldier. He’s not a lackey. He’d rather remain a proxy Soul-Reaper if it meant he could fight to protect.

Ichigo was pretty sure he'd made his decision. He wanted more than anything for this place to be safe. He didn’t want to shut the door on this chapter of his life. Even if he has to be called ‘Shinigami-Daikou’ for the rest of his days here, forever separate, not belonging to any squad, this place still felt like his life’s work. Even with Yhwach gone, Aizen under control, and peacetime having resumed, all the people he’d met and fought next to… he didn’t want to see them go.

He could start something new here. They don’t need his massive amounts of power anymore, but he can learn other things. He could learn, start again; he could stay here.

Besides, there’s...

Ichigo was drawn back into the conversation going on around him when Renji laughed a bit at something Yumichika said and leaned back on his arms, his hand ending up near Ichigo’s in the grass. Ichigo glanced down at it, his own fingers twitching involuntarily at the sudden proximity, close but not quite touching, and seeing the movement, Renji looked over at him.

Ichigo let his eyes drag away from their fingertips, which seemed like two peninsulas moving at a monumentally slow pace towards each other due to the immense force and pressure of the earth, an unstoppable force of nature. How long would it take until they finally touched? What was it going to take to just up and _bridge the gap_ already? Analogy aside, they were just hands. He could theoretically reach out and touch at a moment’s notice if he wanted to, but it seemed just as impossible a task as forcing together two continents prematurely. He was frozen in place, as if not by his own will. Instead, cursing his own shyness, he let his fingers withdraw and curl into a fist. Finally, his eyes met Renji’s, slowly; almost with dread.

He knew Renji could read right on his face what he’d been thinking, and before Ichigo could get embarrassed, Renji let an uncontrollable smile spread across his face. Ichigo found himself unable to help but copy it, so they just sat there smiling at each other like idiots.

Feeling a poke to his tensed knuckles, Ichigo’s smile froze in place a little and he darted his eyes down for what couldn’t be longer than a second to see Renji’s spread fingers, his pinky brushing deliberately against Ichigo’s fist, wiggling as if to tickle him. Ichigo turned his head forward sharply and bit his lips to try and control this stupid grin as Renji poked him again, his hand worming further towards him like a less stealthy version of a grass snake. Ichigo blinked a bunch and looked down at his lap resolutely, slapping blindly for Renji’s pinching fingers and then grabbing them in a grip meant to bruise, intent on hurling them away. Renji merely squeezed him back, holding him fast, and Ichigo turned beet red. He couldn't believe he'd fallen for that, and took a breath to yell, but then merely let it back out when he thought better of it.  

Renji, that fucker, unable to take it anymore, spat out a bunch of air and burst into laughter and coughs.

“You asshole!” Ichigo howled. “You think you’re funny?! I’ll give you somethin’a’ laugh about!” Renji just sputtered for air and held his stomach, leaning away as Ichigo hit him on the shoulder repeatedly.

Ichigo placed his hand back in his lap angrily, ready to have to defend against some sort of teasing from the others, but Yumichika merely hid his laughter behind his hand, while Ikkaku raised an eyebrow, seeming either unamused or amused to the point of incredulity. He gave Renji a long appraising look, and then turned his beady hawkish eyes on Ichigo.

“Ain’t that shit kinda’ creepy, gaki?”

Ichigo tried to retort, but Renji interrupted with his stupid buffoonish laughter, still recovering from his fit of mirth at Ichigo’s expense, damn him. Ichigo fought against the raging blush threatening to crowd his cheeks, and opened his mouth to tell Yumichika to shut up laughing. However, before Ichigo could do so, Ikkaku held out a hand flat in front of Yumichika’s chest, signaling him to be quiet.

Renji’s laughter abruptly cut short and even through the rowdy shouts of those celebrating around them, Ichigo could still clearly hear the draw of Renji’s nails over the ground as his hand balled into a fist in the grass. It was then that Ichigo realized that Ikkaku’s comment had been meant for Renji, not him.

“What is, Ikkaku-san?” Renji asked, his voice startlingly hesitant. Ichigo flicked his eyes towards him, the hairs prickling on his arms. Yumichika seemed to be bristling too. Ikkaku was still laying there all lazy looking, but he was clearly posing a threat, as Renji was sitting like a statue, like the very air around him was forcing him still. What the hell, were they going to fight?

“You playin’ with a young guy like that,” Ikkaku said nonchalantly, whipping a finger between the two of them. “You know,” he made the ‘fighting’ gesture, batting his two pointer fingers back and forth on each other like he was sharpening knives, clearly insinuating that-

“Oh Ikkaku, being vulgar is so unattractive,” Yumichika scolded, attempting to diffuse the static in the air.

“Hah!” Ikkaku laughed out loud, leaning back with a quieter snort, taking another unsteady guzzle of alcohol. Renji remained still, brow furrowed, and he didn’t move until the strained nature of the atmosphere around them seemed to ease. After a moment, he gave an uncertain laugh of his own and settled back, but Ichigo could see he was as tense as a bowstring. He knew Renji hated being made a fool of, but that he wasn’t as likely to challenge _Ikkaku_ as he was Ichigo or Rukia when they made fun of him.

“Yeah, well,” Renji mumbled abortively, arms crossed tightly. “Shit happens. Didn’t plan it to go that way. Just did.” His muscles coiled and eased only minutely with each breath, and Ichigo watched on as Ikkaku grilled Renji further. Not so funny when he got a taste of his own medicine, huh?

Well, Renji was never really _mean_ about it when he teased Ichigo. There was something weird about the way Ikkaku was jerking Renji around that made it… well, not as funny. Even Yumichika, who usually always laughed at Ikkaku’s dumbest jokes, was observing uneasily.

“Mm.” Ikkaku raised an eyebrow again, smirking in what Ichigo felt was an entirely unfriendly way. “I know you’re the lovelorn puppy type.” He took another draught, wiping his mouth roughly. “Really though, Abarai, god _damn._ ”

Renji shifted, seeming sort of embarrassed. Ichigo thought he should try saying something even though he didn’t know quite what was going on, but then he saw Yumichika sigh discreetly and put a hand over his feathered eyes, just in time for Renji’s uneasy refutation.

 

“I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Ain’t sayin’ you did. Just never expected that outta’ you, goin’ after a kid,” Ikkaku teased. It was clear now that he was indeed joking, but it was obviously meant in a sort of mean-spirited way.

Ichigo furrowed his brow, angry, because what kind of ridiculous shit was that? He’s not a kid! What, does Ikkaku think that’s funny or something? Looking to Renji in offense, expecting to see the same annoyed response to Ikkaku’s bullshit, Ichigo was surprised to see that Renji had gone really quiet, speechless, expression struck with a sort of guilty surprise that he hadn’t seen the likes of before.

“Don’t fuck around, Ikkaku,” Renji finally rasped, eyes wide.

“Ikkaku, really, what an ugly thing to say,” Yumichika muttered skeptically, eyes narrowed. Ikkaku backpedaled a bit then at the accusing look of his partner.

“Hey, that’s what it is, ain’t it? He’s hot for Shotaro.” Ikkaku gestured towards Ichigo blatantly, nodding his bald head at him. He cackled loudly when Ichigo bristled. Oh fuck this guy, he’s just fucking around, isn’t he.

“Hey, fuck you, Ikkaku, what’s your problem?!” Ichigo shouted, “Why don’t you shut up? You think I can’t kick your ass?! Who’re you calling Shota anyways, huh?!” Ikkaku just rolled his eyes like he was a minor annoyance, which just got him angrier. How the fuck did he even know about something like that anyway? The guy hadn’t even known about onigiri packaging!

Like Ichigo hadn’t even spoken, Renji eyed Ikkaku, clearly unnerved. “That’s not your business,” he countered somewhat uncertainly, voice kind of quiet, which quelled Ichigo’s rage for a moment. Why was he so…

“Whatever, 'm just sayin’.” Ikkaku took another swig of sake, gesturing between them with a furrowed brow. “I mean, you’ll always be ‘kid’ ta’ me, but Ichigo- he’s _really_ a kid. No offense, little brat,” Ikkaku directed to Ichigo, who merely stared, mouth ajar, because it was so clearly not a joke anymore that Renji’s agitation was beginning to make more sense.

“Ikkaku,” Yumichika said warningly, eyes flicking from Renji to Ikkaku, but he did nothing more to stop the exchange.

“Hey, _I’m just sayin’._ I didn’t want nothin’a’ do with that Asano girl, ‘cause I’m a grown man. What business do I have screwin’ around with a kid?” He gave Renji a grimace. “I mean, do whatever, but-”

“Ikkaku, that’s quite enough.” Yumichika gave such a viciously protective glare that Ikkaku finally stopped with a snort and a deadpan expression of indulgence. “That was so completely unnecessary.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t,” Ikkaku huffed at his ruffled partner, who was in no way pacified. “Hey look, he knows I’m just fuckin’ with ‘im.” Yumichika continued to frown disapprovingly, leading Ikkaku to groan and call, “Oi, Renji, you know I’m just fuckin’ around. See, he’s fine.”

Yumichika sighed and rolled his eyes in a completely unbeautiful way. “Ikkaku, you need another beer.”

“Damn right I do! This is why you understand me, Yumichika.”

“Don’t pay attention to him, Renji-kun. He doesn’t like change, and this lieutenant’s position – he’s going through a time. Like a molting lizard shedding its disgustingly ugly dead skin. He’ll cheer up soon.” Ichigo stared at Yumichika for a second, one eye twitching. “We’ll leave you two alone.”

“Oh we will, huh?” Ikkaku mumbled amusedly from the ground, raising an eyebrow in a half-ass challenge as if to say he wasn’t getting up off this engawa even if it meant missing the best fight of his life.

“Quiet,” Yumichika hissed, nabbing him by the ear and yanking it a bit, then swatting him over his shiny head. “You’ve menaced enough people tonight.”

“A’right, a’right,” Ikkaku yawned, taking his time in getting up while Yumichika tapped his foot. Finally, they headed away, Yumichika lingering to offer a supportive pat to Renji’s shoulder and best wishes to them. Weird guys. Ichigo had thought they’d never leave.

“Huh. What the hell was that ab-” Ichigo’s words died at the sight of Renji’s stricken and faraway expression. He waited for a moment for Renji to snap out of it on his own, but when Renji wasn't forthcoming, he eventually he groaned under his breath.

“Hey,” he prompted, and Renji blinked, coming back to reality and looking at him for a moment, the distress in his eyes piercing into him like needles before they darted away, fixed on the ground. “Hey, what’s up with you?” Ichigo asked.

Renji was quiet for a moment. “Nothing,” he said, voice so flat and emotionless that it took Ichigo a second to soak in. What was processed immediately was Renji pulling his body completely away from him, and it felt like ice water going down the back of his neck.

“Hey, wh-” Ichigo held out a hand as if to pull him back in, but it was somehow impossible. It felt like instinctively going to lace one’s hands together, only to come to the repeated and gut-wrenching remembrance that the other arm had been amputated not long ago. There was nothing there.  

“C’mon, that didn’t bother you, did it? He’s been a cranky asshole for weeks. He’s just fuckin’ around,” Ichigo tried, but his voice revealed that he wasn’t as sure as he’d meant to sound.

Renji didn’t say a goddamn word, staring hard off into the void.

Frustrated, desperate, Ichigo’s young soul did what it always did in moments of uncertainty: he turned to anger, intent on hitting Renji and making him respond. He took a breath to demand a reply, but then it came, and he wished it hadn’t.

“I know.”

Before he could do anything more, Shuuhei and Rangiku spotted them and seized their lieutenant buddy for some lively chat, and to all the others, there was nothing wrong, Renji was behaving normally, but for the rest of the party, Ichigo’s heart pounded and his hands burned and it felt like the world was going to end.  

Renji acted like he wasn’t even there for the rest of the night.  

. . .

By the time they left, it was well into the middle of the night, yet they still had split the party far earlier than the rest. Renji had made his excuses after about an hour of rowdy partying, and despite his startlingly natural demeanor, Ichigo had been able to tell his heart hadn’t been in it. He’d meant to track Yumichika down to ask him what the hell had happened to make Renji react like this, or better yet, beat it out of Ikkaku, but they were nowhere to be found.

They were taking the long walk back to Renji’s place in silence, the moon high above them in the dark sky, and the only sound was the soft crunch of their waraji against the swept and glowing white stone street. Renji was alarmingly quiet now that there was no one to put an act on for, and Ichigo was extremely wary, thinking over and over of what he should say, what he could possibly say that wouldn’t provoke him.

Over the last hour, his initial anger had flared out and cooled into a sort of _hurt_ as Renji completely ignored and went on without him. Something to do with that dumb and mean joke Ikkaku had made. He’d only been fucking around, but it was obvious Renji had taken it to heart on some level if he was this bothered. Ichigo just didn't understand why Renji was taking it out on  _him._ Why was he pretending like Ichigo was invisible? He wasn't...  _upset_ with him, was he? Renji's been mad at him before, but he's never just gone quiet like this. It was really starting to freak Ichigo out. 

He didn’t know why they hadn’t just flash-stepped back, because Renji clearly wanted to be anywhere but near Ichigo. He was walking with such long strides now that Ichigo was struggling to keep up, panting. Finally, he grew so irritated with looking at Renji’s tense shoulders, the profile of his back somehow so sharp and cold with a little ironic silver lining of the moon gracing his dark uniform, that he snapped, all the anxiety and dread that had been building in his stomach for the last few hours just bursting out. “Will you slow down?!”

Renji didn’t reply or look back at him, in fact he tossed his head further away, and Ichigo could see nothing but the black outline of the side of his face. He thankfully did slow a bit, but not much. He didn’t answer either. 

Ichigo felt like he was going to throw up. Why wasn't he saying anything?

“What’s the matter with you anyways?” he grumbled, tensing his stomach to try and push down this horrible fretful knot.

Renji acted as though he hadn’t even heard him, and Ichigo would’ve thought he’d been talking to a brick wall if it wasn’t for the immediate coiling of every one of Renji’s muscles at the sound of Ichigo's voice.

“Hey, I asked you a question!” He landed a heavy hand on Renji’s shoulder before he could too far outmatch him in speed, and had to grip hard to slow him down. Renji resisted, trying to keep walking, the shoulder Ichigo had seized getting dragged back, but eventually he ceded, halting in his tracks. His face was still dark under the night sky, turned down and engulfed in shadow. Why was he so damn quiet?

“Hey,” Ichigo inquired, letting the irritation seep out of his voice, replaced with concern and confusion. “What’s up?”

Renji’s fists clenched tightly at his sides, his skin glowing stark white in comparison to his uniform in the suddenly harsh seeming light of the moon, and the motion was done with such ferocity that Ichigo swore it sounded like leather gloves tightening. Something was pretty bad. He knew Renji, and he was gonna’ snap soon. This couldn't all be about what happened back there, right? It hadn’t bothered him so much as all that, had it?

“Hey,” he practically whispered, cautiously circling around Renji to try to get a better look at his face. He ducked a bit in a foolish attempt to catch his eyes and draw his attention up, but Renji stubbornly stared forward. In a last ditch effort, Ichigo swallowed hard and daringly reached out to Renji’s jawline, brushing his thumb along it tentatively. When there was no violent reaction, Ichigo let his palm melt against Renji’s cheek, his fingertips stroking behind his ear at his hairline, reaching the curve of his neck.

Ichigo’s eyes searched Renji’s face, which was tipped downwards so that his brow set such a dark shadow that his eyes were completely black, the only spot of light on his face being cast on the high point of his cheeks and the ridge of his nose. His hair glistened, red and grey, the dim light tricking Ichigo’s eyes into a moment of color-blindness.

He brushed his thumb on Renji’s cheek in what he hoped was taken as comfort, not pity. He was very uncertain, as they were still so new and fragile, and any advance, however small, he still wasn’t confident in at all. Renji was letting him touch his face when he was clearly upset, and Ichigo couldn’t help but feel like he was petting a wild tiger, risking being mauled at any moment.

Finally Renji reacted, lifting and turning his head away. Ichigo’s palm drifted against his nose and mouth for a moment in his surprise, and then retracted slightly. Apparently, not enough, because Renji took it in his own hand and moved it away. He placed a gentle but firm arm against Ichigo’s chest and pushed past him, as if intending to keep heading home regardless of any action on Ichigo’s part.

“Renji!” Ichigo shouted frustratedly, and admittedly with a strained note of desperation. He grabbed at his shoulder again, and this time, Renji slapped his arm away with more force. Ichigo froze, one foot instinctively sliding back and a hand going up to grab for Zangetsu’s hilt, but Renji merely stood there, just as tense and still, even his wild hair hardly daring to move with the slight breeze.

The moment of tension broke then as Renji sighed, and Ichigo watched from behind him as he lifted a hand and wiped his face roughly.

“Renji,” Ichigo tried, easing back into a normal position, reaching out a hand for his back, but a sudden reply halted him.

“This isn’t gonna’ work.”

If Renji’s withdrawal before had been ice water down his back, this was his body being frozen solid, every blood cell bursting as microscopic ice crystals penetrated every cubic inch of his flesh. He didn’t know how he could even move, but one of his feet slid back again, as if prompting him to flee before he had to hear the rest, the words he knew were coming but still fiercely denied could be.

“What isn’t?” he poised, playing dumb, maybe naively hoping Renji wasn’t serious, that he might back down, but the sharp swoop of dread in his gut told him that it was a hopeless effort.

God, this was awful. He felt sick to his stomach, those butterflies he’d felt at Renji’s confession having turned to ravenous bats, or insects, maybe a writhing nest of snakes. Renji wouldn’t even look at him, still standing there with his fists clenched at his sides, and Ichigo didn’t think he could take it.

“This.” Renji’s words were short, low, so blunt that one might think they were impersonal, but Ichigo could hear they were pained and choppy, so as not to prolong it. Maybe it was meant to be a kindness, but Ichigo had never liked to rip bandaids off as a kid because of how they ripped out the hairs, and he doesn’t like this either. “Us. Together,” he clarified, and maybe Ichigo knew it was the end, because he went straight to denial. He’d skipped that stage when he’d lost his mom. He’d always thought that it had been because the loss had been so sudden, but he hadn’t expected Renji to do this any more than he had expected to lose her.

“What?” Ichigo heard himself try to laugh, and Renji turned towards him then, his eyes raised enough to look at his face, but not meet his gaze. He looked sad, resigned, and Ichigo hated it. It looked like he’d given up already, like he’d decided not to fight from the get-go. “Wh- Ikkaku was just joking,” he tried, because he was positive that was what this was about. Renji had been fine until Ikkaku had said all that shit, and that’s what it had been; it was bull. Ikkaku hadn’t even been serious. Not _really._ He'd just been yanking Renji's chain!

“Don’t let one thing bother you,” he rasped, and he tried to sound convinced himself, but Renji’s expression was so decisive already that some part of him knew that there was no point. His insides going tight and hot with despair, Ichigo panicked. He didn’t want this to be over so soon, before it had even started. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t even gotten a chance really. It couldn’t be over already, it just couldn’t.

Renji let out a rumbling sigh, and he looked like he felt bad, which just sparked the rage Ichigo needed to sound more convicted, more outraged, less sad and young and desperate to stop this from happening. “It’s not just one thing,” he explained, and at that moment he sounded older and more beaten down that Ichigo had ever heard him. He hated it, he fucking hated it.

“I just ignored it until-”

Ichigo voice came across sharper then. “Until what? Until someone you respect said it? I know you think he knows everything, but face it, Renji – Ikkaku’s full of hot air sometimes! He was just fuckin’ around, being an asshole, tryin'a' bug you! It didn’t mean anything, what he said.”

That seemed to get to Renji, because he burst out with, “Yeah, but he’s not the only one who’s-!” He shook his head, sighing again more roughly. “Look.” He placed a hand to his forehead, smoothing it over the top of his skull and then raking his fingers through his ponytail. Ichigo glared at him harshly, and he was starting to huff and pant angrily, his own fists opening and closing. This wasn’t fair. Renji didn’t just get to do this! He didn’t get to tell him that he had feelings for him and open up this door to Ichigo, this path in life that he’d never known was an option and then just- He didn't get to show Ichigo something so amazingly wonderful and then go ‘Psych! I changed my mind!’

He couldn’t rip him out so soon like that just because he was having second thoughts! Why didn’t Renji consider _his_ feelings, huh? What, just because he was guilty over something dumb, that’s _it,_ it’s _over_ just like that?

“Look, Ichigo, I’ve been thinking about it, and-”

“No.”

“He’s right, Ichigo _._ I can’t c-”

“No!” Ichigo raged, doing anything he could to shut him up right there, because he wasn’t going to fucking listen to this. He knew what he was going to say, and he didn’t deserve that shit. Not now. He wasn't going to let Renji do this to him, he wouldn't let Renji rip him apart.

Renji shut up and stared at him balefully, at first holding out a hand to him as if to – he didn’t _know_ what – but then letting it drop as he listened incredulously to Ichigo scream at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” he hollered, reiatsu blazing out of control. “Don’t you dare say it, don’t you treat me like a kid after all I’ve done, after all I’ve gone through, _I_ _don’t deserve that_.”

And he doesn’t. He didn’t deserve Renji to write him off like he couldn’t handle a decision after all he’d done. He’d been handed the responsibility of saving the entire world, for god’s sake, and every time it had gotten too hard, no one had ever treated him like a kid then. No one had told him it was okay to be scared, to doubt himself. No one had ever offered him advice or comfort – in fact, the usual solution was to hit him and make him feel bad about himself until they were positive that he’d never let that vulnerable scared young part of him show ever again. God damnit, every time it had gotten rough, they’d all told him to suck it up, especially Rukia and Renji. And here he was telling him that this – _this_ was too much for him? This was the thing he wanted Ichigo to be scared about, that he had to be kept safe from? This wasn’t okay for him? Renji had to protect him from this or something? Keep away from him because he was dangerous? What, was this supposed to be ‘for his own good?’ Fuck that! That was _bullshit!_ Ichigo had done too much for Renji to pull that one on him.

He never would’ve expected that from him. In fact, from him, least of all. And it stung, it stung worse than Renji coming out and calling him weak or useless or too young right to his face. The implication was enough, and so so much worse – because it hurt more to have Renji really think that about him in his heart than to hear it said out loud.

“I’m not saying you haven't done the stuff you did,” Renji said slowly, carefully, like he knew Ichigo would completely unhinge if he broke the eggshells. As the words kept coming, pained and tired, Ichigo hated Renji and the way he acted like it wasn’t eggshells at all, but nails or coals or something, like this was harder for him than it was Ichigo, like he was making a sacrifice to protect him. He hated Renji for this. “I’m saying, comparing our ages, what they’re saying is _true_.” Renji looked him in the eye then, his expression so dreadfully sorry and resigned that Ichigo wanted to hit him so badly, he wanted to wipe that right off. He was stronger than that, he didn’t deserve to be looked at like that, like he was a younger brother who’d wanted to go to war to prove himself, only to be patted on the head by his older brother, the real soldier, and told ‘next time, little guy.’ He didn't deserve to be patronized and left behind like that, not by Renji.

“You _are_ a kid. I’m a man,” Renji grit out, eyes squinting in something like regret, and Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore.

“ _That’s such a fucking cop out!”_ he shouted, right in Renji’s face, and Renji let him, although he began to get a little riled too.

He grimaced in frustration and got in Ichigo’s face in turn as he argued back with a growl, “You think this is easy for me? You’re wrong, Ichigo! You think it’s easy ta’-” He beat the side of his head with the heel of his hand, hardly able to finish a sentence from clearly self-directed anger. “I never should’ve said anything to you, I never should’ve made it so I’d have to hurt you! It was fucking selfish, I wasn’t thinking straight!”

“You’re really going on about that?! What, _one_ comment from your senpai and it’s over?” Ichigo stared at Renji incredulously, his shoulders dropping. He couldn’t fucking believe this. Renji really was… “What the _fuck_ , Renji! That’s how hard you’re gonna’ fight for this? That’s how much you...” He bit his traitorous lower lip before it could tremble and he tried to stay angry, because if he was angry, he couldn't be sad, he couldn't-

Renji rounded on him then like a wild animal, snarling in his face. “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.” Ichigo could see he’d struck a nerve, calling Renji’s feelings into question, but he was so mad about Renji pulling this bullshit on him like he was a little boy that needed to be shielded from the world that he didn’t care. He just wanted to hurt Renji back, hurt him as much as he could. Maybe that was proving him right, proving that he was indeed childish, too immature, but Ichigo didn’t fucking care.

"What was all that talk about being with me until my last breath then? Was that all bullshit?"

"Don't go there."

"Why not?" Renji seemed to squirm, gritting his teeth and glaring, like every word was a prick in his side. Ichigo pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes, feeling suddenly bitter. "What, does that upset you? Well, it upsets me, that you go back on a promise like that." Ichigo shook his head, laughing horribly, "I believed you when you said that. I fucking believed you. That carried me through to the end. Did you know that?" He screwed up his mouth then to keep from screaming or worse, sobbing. "Are you gonna' look me in the eye and tell me it was all a joke? You can take that back so easily? I thought that meant _everything!_ "he howled, the corners of his mouth tugging down and his chest heaving.

"It's not like that," Renji rasped weakly, furrowing his brow, every inch of his face saying that he didn't want to hurt him, to please stop, don't be sad, don't break, _please_ -

-but it doesn't matter, because that's all Ichigo wanted to do now was break Renji back.

"You don't get it, Ichigo," Renji said quietly, his eyes begging him to leave it there.

“Oh, I understand completely. I see what you are,” Ichigo said sharply, eyes narrowing in a challenge. Renji’s eyes widened in an equal opposite reaction, and Ichigo got it. This wasn’t about Ichigo at all. Renji was just cutting and running with the excuse that they wouldn’t have worked anyway, just so he could spare himself the trouble, the pain, the worry.  “You’re nothing but a coward,” he growled, and maybe it was cruel, but he didn’t care anymore.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Renji warned, eyes still wide, but his stance becoming threatening. Ichigo didn’t back down, pushing and prodding him further.

“It’s why you an’ Rukia were apart for all those years, and it’s why you can’t do this now,” Ichigo hissed, going for a low blow. Renji was going to snap any second now. “- Because you’re fucking afraid of admitting you feel _anything!_ You don’t care, do you! You don’t care what you miss out on! You don’t care who else gets hurt!" He flung a hand out to the side in a swiping gesture and just kept on yelling, not even caring what he was saying, how hurtful it was, how true or untrue. "You don’t have to be with me, but you don’t get to lie that you’re doing this for me. You just wanna' tell yourself that to make it seem okay that you yanked me around for no fucking reason!”

“Stop it!” Renji demanded. “Fucking _stop_ it!”

“You never change, Renji! From the moment I met you, you haven’t changed at all! You think you’ve come so far, but you’re still making excuses for why you can’t do things, why you won’t go for the things you want! You can stand up to Byakuya, you can follow me to Las Noches, you can fight Yhwach with me, but you can’t fucking face yourself – it’s fucking patheti-" Ichigo’s head snapped around as Renji’s fist drove into his cheek.

“ _Shut up!”_

The blow cracked his neck, and as he reeled back, Renji’s hand at his collar held him still for another strike to the head, and by then, Ichigo had recovered from his surprise. Renji’s control had broken so suddenly that he hadn’t had time to react.

After the second hit, Renji went to punch him again, and Ichigo beat him right back, socking him in the eye. So angry that he didn’t even think to go for his sword, Ichigo just hit Renji, again and again, so upset that he didn’t care about anything, he didn’t care how bad Renji was hurting him back, how much everything was going to hell.

He didn’t know how long they scrapped for, how long they grappled against each other, but there came a startled voice out of the gloom which had them frozen for a moment, arms locked at the other’s shoulders, foreheads together. Ichigo’s thumb was digging into the corner of Renji’s eye socket and Renji’s hand was fisted in Ichigo’s hair, his other hand resting against his solar plexus where he’d been punching him to try and get him to let go. Renji's nose was broken and streaming blood, and Ichigo's eye was swelling shut. They stood there staring at each other, and the poor unseated officer just squeaked, “Lieutenant Abarai!”

Renji’s eyes flicked to the young man and Ichigo took that moment to shove him off and hurl himself away. Thankfully, Renji released his hair and let him go, straightening up with his breath heaving.

“Kurosaki-san! Are- are you two okay?”

Ichigo stood with his back to the two of them, glaring at the ground. Nothing hurt but his hands, the muscles in them aching and burning. The rest just felt numb and prickly, maybe the result of too many blows to the head, but probably not.

“Nothin’a’ see, cadet,” he heard Renji say in a remarkably normal tone, but Ichigo was already walking away. “Get ta’ bed.”

It was quiet after that, and Ichigo kept walking. He didn’t turn around and Renji didn’t call out to him. He didn’t head to Renji’s place for the night; not Rukia’s either. He’s fucking going home. He doesn’t want to stay here another minute.

He kept going, and still, Renji didn’t call after him.

Ichigo grit his teeth and swiped at his face. He wasn’t crying. Blood had just run into his eyes.

_. . ._

_I cry tears you'll never see- so fuck you, you can go cry me an ocean and leave me be._


	5. Six

_You say our love is like dynamite- well, it’s no surprise._

_. . ._

A long time had passed since that night in Urahara’s basement, where they'd made up from that huge fight they'd had. It'd been about a year and a half – in fact, seventeen months.

Seventeen months in which - despite having made up - Ichigo had undergone the worst torture imaginable. Seventeen months of waiting after that explosive kiss for something, _anything_ to happen. Seventeen months of putting on this stupid act around each other, when they both knew what they really felt, because _no_ , dating would be wrong or something. That might actually make  _sense,_ and they couldn't have that! No sense allowed! No, Ichigo had to fight this silent frustrating battle for _seventeen months_  without making any headway whatsoever. Because Renji said so, that's why! No arguing, Ichigo!

He was so glad that ridiculous shit was over, because he literally didn’t think he could survive a wait like that again. He didn't like to admit it, but Renji's stubbornness far outmatched his own, so waiting for Renji to break or run out of patience had been a bad strategy.

Thankfully though, fucking _finally_ , after months of agony, Renji had admitted partial defeat - more like he was helpless to Ichigo's charms. Yeah right. Okay, _really_ it was more like Ichigo had turned nineteen and Renji had felt slightly less creepy, enough so that he'd been persuaded into letting them date.

So yeah, after seventeen months of unadulterated suffering, they were officially ‘together’ again. And that was only because Ichigo had basically forced it out of him, tooth and nail. It hadn't been easy. He hadn’t been able to tempt Renji because Renji didn’t let his dick overrule his heart – so Ichigo had pulled out some dirty moves, namely, getting him right in the heartstrings. He was lucky Renji was a closet sap.

They’d been together for a little while now, and although Ichigo was happy about it - not to mention immensely relieved - he was still kind of bitter about being made to wait that long. He thought that it had been kind of stupid, considering they’d both known and openly admitted that they’d had these feelings for each other for like two years now - and Renji for longer, probably - and for all that time, Renji had refused to date him anyways.

Dumb. Stupid. Pointless. A  _waste of precious time._ No? They weren't going to acknowledge that? Typical.

Anyway, fuck that, Renji had finally agreed – _tentatively_ , on what he said was ‘ _dating probation’_ , whatever the fuck that meant. So basically, Ichigo was on really thin ice with it, but yeah, he had a boyfriend now. Good stuff.

Well, not exactly. He had a boyfriend, sure, but all his hopes that he’d finally get to do something about all the infuriatingly frustrating boners that were a byproduct of purposefully unfulfilled sexual desire, but _no!_ Apparently, part of this ‘probation’ was that Renji still wouldn’t so much as kiss him. Never mind that they’ve already kissed before a few times. Ichigo really thought he was going to go fucking mental. Nineteen years old can handle a goddamn kiss!

They’d even kissed when they’d gotten back together, so Ichigo doesn’t know why Renji's doing take-backs now. There's really no point in asking though. They’ve had this argument like fifty times since they’d started dating again, but that was one of the annoying and wonderful things about Renji – the guy does not break. There was no cajoling, threatening, or tempting Renji to give in early, not successfully at any rate. For one, Ichigo wasn’t that creative in thinking of ways he might seduce Renji, and for two, Renji had an incredible self-discipline. Something about a warrior’s spirit that had been fostered by his senpai in Squad Eleven, able to withstand any earthly desire or suffering, or some Daoist stuff. What the fuck did Ikkaku know about the Dao De Jing anyways? Didn’t it forbid the use of sharp objects as weapons? Whatever, those Kenpachi-Corps guys had never made sense anyways.

Anyway, in layman’s terms, that warrior spirit shit basically meant no sex or _anything_ until Renji either changed his mind or Ichigo turned twenty, and at the rate things were going, Ichigo would turn twenty long before Renji’s resolve frayed.

It left Ichigo no option but to listen to Renji for once, which was absolutely infuriating, because he was  _wrong_ about this! He really was! Ichigo was old enough! Renji was just being dumb!

Well, maybe that was a bit harsh.

To be honest, Renji's been wonderful lately. Really, he has. He didn’t avoid Ichigo anymore or pretend that he didn’t like him; in fact, he was quite loving. He went out of his way to make sure that Ichigo had a ton of fun whenever they were out together, and gave him plenty of innocent physical affection, and even though they fought and teased like usual, Renji was just a complete looney bird over him. He was mad for Ichigo; even an oblivious dolt like him could see it. 

However, the most they’d done in ages now was hold hands, and Ichigo felt like he might explode. When Renji had first confessed back when he'd been seventeen, Ichigo had been so excited that someone liked him that he hadn't had any time to get frustrated like that. He'd been too busy being nervous and scared and happy, but now that it had sit for a year and a half, he's ready to rip his hair out. He was so horny, he wanted to fuck everything! Well not everything – Renji was the exclusive object of fantasy – but you get the point. 

Seriously, if he and Renji didn’t do it within the next few weeks, Ichigo thought he might literally die. You know, from dick injuries related to overmasturbating. It could happen!

I mean, he didn't want to complain, because his life was pretty awesome otherwise and he was sure somebody somewhere had a way worse problem than blueballs, but sometimes he didn't know what kept him going. It was only a few months longer, but it felt like a million years.

Ichigo exhaled and rubbed his brow. He and Renji were going on another date later. They didn’t really call them dates, considering it was more like exploring and Renji showing Ichigo things about Seireitei, but they were totally dates.

He was sort of dreading it, since each time Renji made a real effort to get him to have a good time, and Ichigo fell further and further in- Well, nevermind what he fell in. The point was, Ichigo was always so mortified by the disgustingly sweet and heavy wave of affection these dates prompted, he was always so thoroughly charmed by his dorky asshole boyfriend, that he felt like if he didn't kiss him, he might just fucking lose his shit. However much of it was left.

Really though, having a super-sexy boyfriend and not being able to touch was one thing, but Ichigo's feelings... they'd built up so much over time that he almost didn't know what to do for helplessness. He wanted to kiss Renji. He saw his face and just wanted to  _kiss_ him. They've spent so long just getting to know each other now that Ichigo can't stand it. His feelings... His heart does the  _thing._ The love thing. He hasn't said anything to Renji about it, because he knows that Renji still thinks that maybe this is a phase and Ichigo will grow out of it, or that he's not old enough to know how he feels, whether it's real and true. So Ichigo kept that inside too like everything else, and Renji kept that space between them. It sucked.

The no sex thing sucked too. Renji was so goddamn hot, sometimes Ichigo wanted to fucking kill something!

Seriously though, Ichigo was pretty sure that at this point, he and Renji both had so much frustration, sexual or otherwise, pent up, that when they finally do end up doing it, it’s going to be the angriest roughest animal sex imaginable. At least that’s what Grimmjow says. And yeah, he knows.

And yeah, he’s still trying to fight Ichigo.

He couldn’t complain. Part of the reason he and Renji were even dating now was because of Grimmjow’s fucked-up yet weirdly effective advice. There had to be something to it, because nothing else had worked at all. He might have to fall back on it again if this date didn't end in at least one kiss.

He tried to look at the positives, but it was hard. They were dating now, there was that. But still no sex, no kissing. And it's hard. It's really _really_ hard. Like on and off all day. Ichigo was pretty much half-insane by now, and still it was 'no sex, Ichigo, no messing around, and absolutely no making out!' Renji was still insisting mulishly that Ichigo be twenty before any of that was on the table. Ichigo didn’t see why it had to be on the table. It could be in Renji’s office, or you know, the bathhouse after-hours, or Ichigo’s bed. All good options.

Ichigo didn’t really see the point in waiting, since nineteen wasn’t that far from twenty, but whenever he complained to Renji that a year didn’t do much, Renji would just tell him something like ‘shut up, I already feel like enough of a monster,’ which, y'know, made Ichigo feel bad enough not to complain again for a few days. And yeah, basically this whole thing was just to make Renji feel like less of a dirty old man - which, let’s be real here, Renji took a shower every day. He wasn't dirty.

Problem was, the poor guy just didn't believe that, and couldn't be convinced of such. God knows Ichigo's tried, but only to be told again that he just had to wait a little longer, just one more year, Ichigo, please. While it would seem a reasonable request, Ichigo's concern was that if Renji’s guilt was this bad now, him turning twenty wouldn’t do shit. However, he didn’t say that out loud, because he had no proof, and didn’t want to give Renji ideas. They already bickered quite enough without any new material.

Most of their arguments these days, if they didn’t burn out quickly like usual, almost always devolved into _the_ argument, and all ended up the same: Renji not budging, Ichigo pissed and sulky, and both of them really horny and practically despairing. Seriously, if Ichigo got another unfulfilled hard-on, he might actually cry.

Whenever it was particularly bad and Ichigo just felt like moping all day with no one but his sore dick for company, he tried to be thankful for the small progress they’d made. Renji had agreed to date him finally, and he admittedly did do some of the boyfriend things. He smiled at Ichigo every time they met during the day, he sometimes teased him with cute lovey names to try and make him mad – which invariably worked – and they'd talk and talk and talk until one of them fell asleep. Ichigo had missed Renji so much over the months they’d been fighting and avoiding one another that it seemed like all they did these days was talk to make up for lost time.

Yes, Renji was a good boyfriend, always glad to see him, always happy to be with him and chat and have fun, but it seemed like there were limits everywhere. Ichigo often wondered how badly it would go down if he just grabbed Renji by the dick the next time he saw him. He’d once said as much – Renji had not been pleased.

Yeah, Ichigo’s been kind of a shit to Renji. He'd started some... okay _most_ of those arguments they've had, and out of spite, has been purposefully hard to woo. He might have deliberately been a dick on like their last five dates. He hasn't made things easy for the poor guy. Which is why despite dreading their outing, Ichigo planned to be extra nice this afternoon.

Renji of course wrecks all of that.

They were outside Seireitei somewhere Ichigo had never been before, but Renji seemed to know it. Rather than flash stepping straight there, Renji had suggested they walk, for old times’ sake. Flustered, Ichigo had called him an old man and stormed off ahead, but eventually wordlessly thrust his hand out for Renji to take.

“So, where're we going again?”

“I told you, it’s an old spot me an’ Rukia used to go.”

“Sounds kinda’ lame.”

“Well geez!” Renji shouted hotly, giving him an irritated look but not letting go of his hand. “I didn’t say it was anything special, what the fuck do you want from me, huh?! Don’t tell me that if I did something too nutso-romancey you wouldn’t quit talkin’a’ me for like, a whole year.”

Ichigo didn’t, which made Renji humph in a satisfied manner. He simply narrowed his eyes in response and muttered, “Romancey.”

“Ah, shut up.”

“I just wanna’ know.”

“Guuuhhh!” With his free hand, Renji pulled on his eye socket, groaning at the sky, as if asking it _why_ -  _why was his boyfriend so unrelentingly impatient, nosy, and overly critical_. Guiltless, Ichigo continued pestering annoyingly, 'where, where, where, where, fucking tell me where already, I can do this all day, where-' Finally, Renji cracked.

“It’s just this abandoned farm, a’right? It’s a fucking field, Ichigo, are you happy?” Not particularly with his tone, but Renji was giving him this uncertain sideglance, as if trying to ascertain whether Ichigo was disappointed with the choice of venue. Ichigo sort of smoothed his feathers as new curiosity arose.

“What’re we gonna’ do there?”

“Ichigo, oh my fucking-! You know what – that’s it, I’m not telling you any more! You need ta’ learn some goddamned patience! You’ve gotta’ learn to wait an’ see!” Renji was quiet for a few tense seconds, before bursting, “And why the hell are your hands always so clammy?! Fucking gross.” He ripped his hand from Ichigo’s and wiped it on his leg.

“It’s not my fault,” Ichigo hissed back, scowling. Renji snorted, wiping his hand a little more, but immediately offering it back out to lead him while they continued arguing.

“You’d better not be about to tell me it’s _my_ fault that _your_ hands feel like rotten meat.”

“...!” Ichigo took a breath, but didn’t let it out, merely glaring petulantly as Renji raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk.

“...”

“It just happens! I can’t help it, okay?!”

“I’m that irresistible?” Renji teased, laughing lowly. “Aww, you nervous?”

“Fuck you, Renji, you’re not fucking funny.”

“Whatever, I’d love to prove you wrong in a million different ways, but we’re already here, so…”

Ichigo looked around with his mouth open. He’d known from the beginning that Renji was bringing him out to the Rukongai. They’d taken to exploring whenever they went on a date, but they’d never come to a place like this. It really was just an ordinary field, but overgrown with flowers in the full bloom of early spring. Breathless at the wildly beautiful sight and the raw dirty lovely smell, Ichigo stood agog.

Renji eventually cleared his throat, but Ichigo still could not tear his eyes from the open plain. It was so pretty out here. Even though he'd promised himself earlier that he wouldn't be a little shit today - a promise he hadn't exactly honored thus far - he wouldn't have been able to complain about the scenery even if he  _had_ wanted to be an asshole. He'd never told Renji he liked flowers; how had he known?

“Thought we could get some drinks and chill out here.” Ichigo finally drew out of his trance and agreed, and that’s exactly what they did.

The last couple days had been tough, so it was sort of nice that Renji had brought him out to the countryside, not that Ichigo would admit it. After lying under the pleasantly cloudy sky in a trampled down area of the thick fragrant plants and drinking some wine, he was feeling a lot better. Charmed even.

Damnit. He wanted to kiss Renji so bad. Dumb romantic idiot, bringing him out to a flower field where he and Rukia used to go, and then expecting him to just  _not_ kiss him! He can't make Ichigo remember every reason why he fell for him and then keep him away. It's just plain cruel.

They drank most of the sake between them – yes, Ichigo even had some – and talked about the past. Renji’s arm ended up around him and their hands were together, fingers messily interlocked. Renji was almost sappy when he got drunk these days, and finally when Ichigo scoffed and made fun of something stupid he’d said, Renji dragged him down into the grass and laid his nose against Ichigo’s forehead. Ichigo froze up all over, all his hair standing up, along with something else. Shit, of course Renji had to try and cuddle him now.

Ichigo again tried to be grateful for what he had rather than get frustrated with what he didn't have, and instead of screaming in despair that he was so fucking close to getting a kiss - _c'mon, his lips were right there! -_ he just smiled and flopped his arm around Renji, despite his scorn for Renji’s spoony demeanor not moments before.

Laughing, Renji muttered against his eyebrow, “Hah. You’re a mystery, kid.”

This being more than he could bear, Ichigo grabbed Renji around the back of the head with both hands, knowing that he would try to escape the moment he tried to- Yep, Renji pried them apart as Ichigo struggled to follow him despite the widening gap between them.

One hand at Ichigo's forehead, pushing him back by the hair and the other holding his shoulder, Renji held Ichigo back from mashing his lips onto his face. "Woah there." Ichigo puckered his lips out and continued fighting him, finally scowling when Renji began to laugh a little bit. Making a frustrated noise, he gave one last hard push against Renji's hand, sticking his face out towards Renji's, insistently making bird-lips. "Okay, okay."

He perked up a little bit when Renji tilted his head and leaned in towards him, and he immediately went lax against Renji's restraints and closed his eyes, puckering up, only to feel- he blinked his eyes back open in disbelief -a kiss to his nose.

Expression going stony and bleak, Ichigo let his weight drop and he fell back into the grass, despondent. Renji chuckled a bit and pet his hair, but Ichigo sulked and glared at him, brooding.

"Just cool your jets, kid," Renji hummed fondly, lying down with him and embracing him again, trying to snuggle back up like how they'd been before Ichigo had lost his chill.

He knew there was no point arguing over not getting a real kiss, but the name-calling was really starting to grate on his nerves. Although he knew it was a show of affection, it pricked and stung every time, like a constant reinforcement that Renji didn't see him as a boyfriend, not _really_. He didn't like being patronized like a child.

Ichigo grumbled and sat up, looking at Renji, who tried to hold onto him but eventually just let his arms fall back to the squashed grass with a thud. “Why don’t you call me something else, huh?” he complained grumpily, raising an eyebrow. Renji looked up at him in confusion, hair askew. “Instead of kid,” he clarified.

“Like what?”

“I dunno’.” Ichigo shrugged, scratching at the back of his head. He thinks even some of the stupid things Renji sometimes calls him like ‘ _baby’_ that piss him off like crazy would be better than ‘kid,’ which by contrast, he called him _a lot._ “Just not ‘kid,’” he mumbled. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, not my dad.”

Renji didn’t have anything to say to that, but his expression completely changed, from that of lingering amusement to a kind of skittish cagey thing. Instead of answering, he looked to the side and shifted kind of uncomfortably. Okay so, maybe that had been a step backwards. It certainly didn't bode well for the rest of their date. Crap, now Renji probably wouldn't even cuddle him anymore.

Ichigo groaned and lay back down, arms behind his head as if to look at the sky, but his eyes were stubbornly closed. Sure enough, there was now a careful inch or two of space between them, and Renji was quiet. He was only quiet when he was thinking sad shitty stuff. “Ugh, knock it off already.” Renji hummed back, but it seemed… unsettled. "Stop."

"I'm not doing any- I mean, stop what?"

So fucking jumpy too. Ichigo hated when he got like this. It always meant a week of fights, unhappiness, and indigestion. Ichigo huffed and rolled to the side, leaning on one hand with a scowl, and scrutinized Renji with an annoyed eye. “You wanna’ know your problem, Renji?”

“Bet I soon will.”

“You think way too much. You obsess and guilt. I know it’s supposed to be admirable that you care that much about how the stuff you do affects others, but the truth is, it’s super annoying,” Ichigo said bluntly, making Renji snort and roll his eyes. “So just stop, okay? It’s really really annoying,” he repeated, in case that part didn’t get through. He rolled closer and pinched Renji on the nose, hard. "Stop being a wet blanket. Relax. Stop thinking and relax." He held Renji's nostrils closed for a few seconds longer, flicking his eyes up to Renji's.

"Are you relaxed?"

Nasally, and with a deadpan expression that made the change in voice that much more comical, Renji flatly intoned, “You’re just tryin’a’ get laid, you little shit.”

Ichigo released his nose and watched Renji rub it. Not denying the perceptive statement, Ichigo set his head down on his upper arm, letting his hand rest atop his hair and play with it. He quirked his lip a bit at Renji, and only half-teasingly said, “You make it sound like it wouldn’t matter who it was.”

Renji looked at him for a long time and smiled. Ichigo smiled back, and the heart-love-thing seemed bigger than ever, more powerful than anything he could ever hope to control. His mom had always told him to follow his heart, but he didn't know how he could trust that thing when it could so easily overpower him; it was so much stronger than he was. At the same time, even though it was scary, it was somehow freeing, because with his feelings so strong and him so weak, there was no point in even fighting it. It was too hopeless. He'd accepted his fate. He's got it bad, so so bad for this guy.

Renji, having gotten too good at reading Ichigo's face, crumbled like a melty cookie, his eyebrows scrunching together and a hand coming to cup Ichigo's cheek.

“Just a couple more months,” he muttered almost desperately, sounding like he fucking hated himself for it, like he wanted to kiss Ichigo too. “Don't think about it. Try and just enjoy the here and now. Try an' be happy with just this.” Which means _'no kissing still, Ichigo. You're not gonna' win this thing.'_

“You’re a stubborn asshole, aren’t you,” Ichigo whispered frustratedly, but begrudgingly smiled, because it was one of the wonderful things about Renji, and despite all the trouble it was causing him and ' _them_ ,' he probably wouldn’t change it, given the choice - because he's just as melty and sappy and disgusting as Renji is. It's the dumb heart thing. Renji's too loveable - Ichigo's helplessly weak for it.

Renji nuzzled his forehead onto Ichigo’s, grinning like a dork. Ichigo held his breath, his eyes widening in response to the close proximity of Renji’s mouth to his, the brush of their faces together sending a thrill up his spine and standing up all the hair on his back. Ah fuck, did Renji have any earthly idea what he did to Ichigo, to his heart? Did he know how hard it was to not lunge for him, to seize him, to nab him in his arms and keep him there forever? Was it a tenth as hard for Renji to be so close and not finally _touch_ as it was for Ichigo?

Maybe that's why he'd laughed earlier when Ichigo had tried to kiss him. Maybe it was just cute to him or something. Did he think it was funny? Did he think it was funny when he blushed, when his heart pounded, when he got all stuttery and stupid? Was it just an amusement to him, or did Renji feel this crazy, powerful, magnetic  _fire_ too?

Fuck, he was hard again and his hands were sweating. He couldn’t actually help it, he just got way too excited from the tiniest things and his palms got all clammy. He doesn’t know how Renji has such great self-control while he was swooning all over the place for him. Maybe Renji was right about him being sort of _kind of_ a kid, a little. Ichigo would at least admit that it was new to him, wanting somebody. Maybe that's why he was feeling this so hard.

Ichigo closed his eyes and leaned into it with an awkward swallow, letting their noses brush together, his lips resting on Renji’s cheek. He sighed a long wistful sigh that turned into a groan, one that summed up all the frustrations of a teenager who was perpetually _this-fucking-close_ to getting laid with the hottest man living, which caused Renji to snicker.

“Shut up laughing,” Ichigo grouched. “You’re such a dick.”

“‘m patient,” Renji teased with a mock-serious voice, pressing his nose against Ichigo’s, his eyes boring into his as if daring him to not laugh. “You should try it sometime.”

“Pff’!” Ichigo couldn’t take it. He tried to hold it in, but it burst out of his tightly pressed lips, face scrunching up in an uncontrollable smile. Renji laughed back and they rolled over and beat on each other, and soon were childishly chasing and tackling each other around the field. 

This was it. This was what kept him going. Fucking stupid-ass heart-thing.

_. . ._

_Too young to fall in love - run for the hills!_


	6. Three

The bruises and scabs are gone, the cracked ribs have set; the scratches to his face haven’t fully healed yet, but almost. He hadn’t let Orihime patch him up or even told anyone what had happened. Of course, they’d eventually figured out from hearsay that he and Renji had come to blows, and he’d gotten some shit from a few people who wondered why the hell they still fought, why they couldn’t get along now that there was a peace time. They didn’t know that just because the war was over, didn’t mean everyone’s problems were solved.

Ichigo sighed, taking off his reading glasses for a second and rubbing at his eyes. They were always sore these days. He read too much and then rubbed his eyes, exacerbating the bruising around his eye orbit and making them hurt still more.

He was home in his bedroom at his desk, browsing on his laptop. He’d turned the screen brightness all the way down, and still his eyes ache and itch. He’d spent the last two weeks or so applying to colleges and doing volunteer work. His birthday was going to come soon; it was almost the full blaze of summer already.

After he and Renji had fallen out back then, he’d gone back to Karakura, and he hasn’t heard much from anybody over in Seireitei. He figured that Rukia was livid that he’d just gone away like that, and that he’d get an earful from her next time he saw her. If he did. She hadn’t visited last time he’d had to be in the human world. He’d left without saying anything to anyone this time.

He’d visited Urahara once or twice. He’d seen the shinigami posted in Karakura around a couple times on some rooftops. He tried not to think about the other world and avoided the subject when he was with Orihime and Uryu, when the guy wasn’t busy studying for the med school entrance exams. He still didn’t know what had convinced him to follow in his father’s footsteps and take over the hospital as a doctor.

Chad too. Chad’s taken up boxing. Only Orihime had held onto the dream she’d had, and was working in a cupcake shop, frosting sweets. She’s going to go to cooking school. She wants a bakery. But Chad and Uryu, who’d been so emphatic in their promises to never, never-  

Sometimes Ichigo felt like everything they’d all said they were going to do had just been a stupid lie, a dream that they’d never really believed in. All the promises they’d made had just gone away. Life just did its thing; you don’t really get to decide… You can try and say you’re not going to do something, and in some crazy roundabout way, end up doing it anyways.

He didn’t believe in fate, but here he was back in Karakura anyways, even after he’d said otherwise not too long ago. Maybe it really wasn’t in his control at all.

Ichigo huffed and scratched at the short hair at the back of his neck, then pushed his bangs up. He ought to cut those. He didn’t get so many zits on his forehead anymore, so he could get a haircut if he wanted. Maybe it’d help him feel different before going to school next term. A new start with new people, forgetting everything he’d known and done, abandoning the broken parts he couldn’t fix and just starting over in a new place. He can make that sandcastle after all, maybe.

Ichigo was trying his damned best to be satisfied with it all. As much as he’d tried to move on and forget about it, he found that he was still kind of sad and mopey; frustrated too. Of course he was. How could he ever be happy with a fucking sandcastle now that he’d seen his special island and been told he couldn’t go there, couldn’t live there?

Yeah, he was pretty ticked still. He should’ve cooled down by now, but he was still angry, actually.

For a while, he’d been downright sorry for himself, you know, thinking shit like he should’ve known this would happen. He should’ve known Renji wouldn’t really want to date a stupid silly know-nothing kid like him. He couldn’t have been a real option for Renji – the moment Renji had thought about it too much, he’d changed his mind. Of _course_ he had. It must’ve been momentary madness, war-sickness, making Renji think things he didn’t really mean, and then he’d later realized that those feelings weren’t real, or were stupid, not worth the trouble. It made sense, you know, that he’d changed his mind. He wouldn’t have wanted to be stuck with Ichigo anyway. He was a fucking sad sack. He got all… rainy.

And yeah, he could turn it around the other way too if he tried. Why the fuck would he want to be with Renji either? A guy who ran at the first sign of trouble, no loyalty at all, no… no faith in either of them… Ichigo fisted his hand in his bangs and pulled on them compulsively. That shit wasn’t true at all. Renji was the bravest person he’d ever met, viciously loyal. For god’s sake, he’d sworn to always have Ichigo’s back until the day he died.

And he _had_ had faith in Ichigo. No one had ever believed in him like Renji had. Right to the bitter end, Renji had been there. Not even Rukia had been with him at the end like that.

He dug the heels of his hands into his achy eye sockets, groaning, the pain bringing him out of his wallowing. This had all been stupid. Maybe he hadn’t even really liked Renji like that in the first place.

Yeah! He’d probably just been excited that someone had liked him, and he’d overreacted. It had only been like a week, right? Of course Renji could cut and run – it was so soon, too soon for anything to have formed between them. It shouldn’t hurt. It doesn’t, it doesn’t. Ichigo’s doesn’t even care. This was nothing. This would pass.

He’d never fucking liked Renji to begin with anyways. He’d never fallen for him or felt funny inside when he’d smiled or told him he was there, he’d always be there. That shit hadn’t mattered to him, it never had. Ichigo didn’t fucking care about Renji. He’d never cared.

This will pass. This will go away. Everything does, if you wait long enough.

He’d… he’d forget about this, about Renji, about how irrationally elated he’d felt each time Renji had smiled at him after that day under the trees, how his heart would jolt and jerk weakly with the smallest touch or bit of loving teasing. Those had all been normal reactions of a young inexperienced guy, happy that for the first time, someone liked him. It was a fluke, a week spent in the grips of madness. Ichigo could pry Renji back out of there.

Yeah, he could get Renji back out, just like he’d done with Rukia and everyone else during those seventeen months he’d spent as a normal human boy. Ichigo dug his nails into his scalp. He was so screwed.

‘ _Get him back out. Yeah, that’ll work.’_ He just sighed to himself and shut his laptop, heading downstairs for some food. He’d not eaten breakfast again.

The days passed in a seemingly slow fashion, but looking back on each week as it went by, all the days looked remarkably similar and bland. It was almost worse than when he’d lost his powers, because this time he’d made a conscious choice not to go back, to stay away, to put his badge in a sock in his closet instead of carrying it with him.

It’s been three and a half weeks. He missed Seireitei, and he longed to go home – or, well, _back_ , – but he was still hurt. He’s still mad at Renji. He’s hurt and mad and really lonely. He just wanted to go back. He’d wanted that to be his new life. … It was really sappy, he knew, but… him living there and being with Renji was supposed to be like his new start.

But things don’t go as planned. They never go as planned. They don’t turn out like you want.

He rubbed at his mouth as he often did when he was missing and hating Renji and that stupid not-kiss they’d almost had that day Renji had told him he loved him, both of them frozen against each other, so close, hesitant, as if any move could startle the other away or disrupt the seemingly magic pull they’d had to one another. It had felt right, Renji’s hand gripping his. Everything they’d done had felt right.

That one small dream had turned out to be too much to ask; that simple happiness too fragile, so easily lost. Things were changing and it’s time to choose a path.

He goes and buys one of Orihime’s cupcakes and eats it in the shop.

. . .

A full month had rolled around and he’d almost been surprised when he finally received a hell butterfly from Rukia. Strangely, her message was professional – she must want to lay into him in person. He was told to meet her at Urahara’s place. Some other people were going to be there too, but he didn’t remember who else because after Renji’s name had been dropped, everything else had been an unintelligible buzz.

Ichigo had decided to go.

He’d spent last night rolling around in a nervous sweat. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Renji when he saw him. God, what if Renji was patronizing or pitying. He was a dick like that sometimes. Ah fuck, but it could be worse. Instead of being mean, Renji might actually try to be _nice_ about it. What if he apologized to Ichigo or something, said sorry for hurting him?  If he did that, Ichigo’ll fucking lose it. He might recruit Grimmjow to help murder his ass. If they both beat him half to death, then, you know, no more pity-apologies or smug ‘this-is-for-your-own-good’ looks. Because two half beatings make a dead ass whole.

The worst thing was that there was this stupid tiny hope inside him that he kept trying to crush, but it kept hiding out, impervious to his efforts at eradicating it. It wasn’t likely, considering both of them had bad tempers, but he still hoped that maybe, maybe they could reconcile.

When Ichigo got to Urahara’s, Grimmjow was hanging around in the front yard. He gave him an uninterested look as he approached, but it was all a carefully orchestrated act. Ichigo knew Grimmjow got twitchy if he didn’t swing by for too long of a time, and Ichigo’s last visit had been a while ago. Sometimes Urahara would call just to get Ichigo to come over and ‘pet the cat.’ Luckily he didn’t mean Yoruichi.

Grimmjow, as expertly nonchalant as said cat turning its nose up at food, acted as though he wasn’t excited to see him, and instead rudely asked, “The fuck’re you doing here?”

Ichigo didn’t rise to the bait. “You know why, idiot.”

Immediately dropping the act, Grimmjow grumbled, “Thought you’d never get here, slow-ass. Fuckin’ assholes are drivin’ me nuts in there.” Ichigo smirked, shaking his head. Predictable. “'Specially that red-hair guy. Heard you two went at it,” Grimmjow drawled knowingly, and damnit, Ichigo hated that he always forgot how smart Grimmjow was when he wanted to be.

“Where is everyone?” Ichigo diverted, desperately trying not to let on about the cold sweat that had broken out on his neck under the gaze of those hawkishly perceptive eyes. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Basement.”

“Mm.”

“I’m gonna’ kick your ass in there later. Be ready," he warned. "You’ll be a stain on the ground once I’m done.”

“In your dreams,” Ichigo called back absently, already having eagerly headed for Urahara’s cavernous basement, where Rukia was waiting – or _lying in wait,_  he should say, because the way she greeted him was more akin to a lion ambushing an antelope than friends meeting after a long time apart.

After the customary beating and then an extra one for leaving without saying anything, they then talked about the why, Ichigo very petulantly poking his toe along the dirty floor. He knew Renji was not far away. He’d been sparring with Kensei when he’d come in, which was right around the time they’d stopped. Ichigo knew he had a very loud and obtrusive reiatsu. He still didn’t have the hang of being inconspicuous with it – at least he didn’t have to go to the trouble of letting Renji know he was here. He knew. He was just pretending he didn’t, lingering over there.

Rukia was still trying to wheedle a reason out of him, but Ichigo was being particularly reticent, answers short and purposefully unhelpful. She was getting impatient, little foot tapping away, and Ichigo grit his teeth and refused to show any sign of intimidation. She was a tiny little thing but she was like a wild dog – she could smell fear, he just knew it.

Finally she narrowed her eyes and a rock dropped into Ichigo’s gut, because she’d obviously caught the straining motions of his eyes along his periphery, tracking Renji’s movements in the distance. She totally knew. God damnit.

“Is this about the Renji thing?”   _Shit._

“What Renji thing?”

Rukia looked very unimpressed, and Ichigo didn’t even know why he was bothering to play dumb. It was probably right on his face, and he was so tired of this stubborn act. He just wanted this dumb fight to be over. He wanted this pain and loneliness to go away. He wanted that fluttery nervous unexplored thing back, where he got a thrill just out of touching Renji’s hand. He didn’t know what to do, what he could’ve done differently to have changed Renji’s mind, what he should do now to make Renji like him again, and right then he realized how much he’d missed Rukia and had needed to talk to her.

“Okay-yes,” he blurted, face hot, “It’s… yeah,” he muttered awkwardly. “Okay? So, what do I do?”

Rukia gave him an appraising look for a moment or two, and around this time, as if Ichigo’s embarrassment was some sort of dog whistle, Renji began approaching warily.

“Oh I’ll tell you what to do,” Rukia declared with that imperious confidence she always bossed him around with, and this time Ichigo literally didn’t even fucking care. He was so lost and out of it that he didn’t care if she made fun of him the entire fucking time. He just wanted this all to be over.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Rukia, for fuck’s sake-”

“Uhh, hey,” Renji signaled his approach, and Ichigo remembered too late that Rukia wasn’t as bad at sensing spiritual pressure as he and Renji were, and her back being turned to Renji as he’d come up on them had been a deliberate strategic move to make him think she didn’t know he was getting closer.

Apparently this realization had come too late for Renji too, as he seemed completely off guard as Rukia leapt in the air and took a firm grasp of their hair in each fist, using that to knock their heads together with a loud _crack!_

With identical yelps, they burst apart and held their skulls. “Idiots!” Rukia scolded. “Why do you both have to make everything a struggle?!”

‘ _I don’t know, Rukia. I don’t fucking know,’_ he wanted to say.

Ichigo nursed the rising bump on his head, sulking, and waited for the inevitable tirade about how dumb they were both being. Ichigo privately agreed with her, and wasn’t planning on arguing – much – and was surprised when Renji shouted right back at her in what strangely seemed like a continuation of an earlier argument.

“Damnit, Rukia!” Renji raged, bearing over her angrily, and between any other two people with a similar size difference, it would seem like an unbalanced match of power, but Rukia sure wasn’t intimidated by Renji, for all the size and weight and strength advantages he had on her. He didn’t even know what the fuck Renji was doing, challenging her like that; she was gonna’ eat him.

“Don’t you ‘damnit’ me! I see what’s going on now. This all comes down to you, doesn’t it! Admit it, it was you, fool!”

“I told you!” he shouted, aggravated, “It’s outta' my control! What about the laws of nature?!”

“Hey!” Ichigo piped up, when it became clear they were fighting about him.

They both ignored him in favor of outshouting each other. “Laws of nature, my foot! Since when have either of you two cared about rules?!” She then brandished her fist at Ichigo, who panicked and scrambled back.

He held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me! It was Renji!” Even if he hadn't known what he was throwing Renji under the bus for, he still probably would’ve done so rather than face Rukia’s wrath on his own. She had such bony knuckles and she was freaking vicious when she was annoyed.

“ _Me?!_ ” Renji sputtered, outraged at the blatant betrayal.

Rukia waved a hand back and forth, rolling her eyes at Renji. “Believe me, I’ve already talked to him about chasing you home.” Indeed, now that Ichigo’s looking, Renji has a big bump on his cheekbone, maybe a shoeprint.

“Hey, you just hit me earlier for _running_ home! You can’t argue both sides!”

“I can so.” Rukia folded her arms and looked up to Renji for a few seconds of cold staring in which Renji sweat and did his best to glare back. “Stubborn, both of you.”

Renji burst, throwing his arms in the air and tearing at his hair. “ _So?!_ What am I supposed to do?! The _fuck_ do you want me to do, Rukia?! I can’t change facts of life! _”_

“Don’t use that excuse on me. I already told you, you don’t care about things like that.”

“I already fucking told you, Rukia-”

“Quiet!” she snapped.

“Hey, leave her alone,” Ichigo interjected, because really, this wasn’t about Rukia. There’s no point in Renji being mad at her when she had nothing to do with this. She hadn’t been the one to wreck things, she hadn’t driven them apart, she hadn’t made them feel shitty like this. They had.

“All she did was try to help. It’s your fault we’re even having this fucked up conversation anyways.” Ichigo jabbed at Renji’s chest, causing him to reel his head back and stare at the spot for a second before he bared his teeth at Ichigo angrily. “You didn’t have to do what you did, but you _did_ , and look where you got us now!”

Renji, clearly aggravated beyond belief, sputtered, “You’re the one who won’t accept the fact that-”

“That what?” Ichigo challenged, fed up. “That we have an age difference? It didn’t have to be about that, but you made it that way. You’re the only one who thought it was weird.”

“It’s not just an age difference, Ichigo,” Renji refuted, his anger becoming more stern, tamer, a simmer rather than a wild boil like Ichigo’s. “You’re not even a man yet, and I’m not sayin' that to be an asshole. You’re _seven-fucking-teen_ ,” he stressed.

Rukia slapped a hand to her eyes and groaned, heading away. “This again,” Ichigo caught her muttering.

Ignoring her, Renji grit out, “A _teenager_. Do you know how that looks?”

That caught Ichigo off guard. Incredulously, he slowly wondered, “What do you care about how things look? Isn’t that kinda' dumb?”

“Shut up!” Renji gasped in exasperation. “You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get where I am now. I’m not gonna’ blow it all on-” Ichigo took a step back, brow furrowing. Renji huffed, clenching his eyes shut and rubbing at the bridge of his nose with the pads of his fingers. Ichigo swallowed when he saw that Renji still had just a little bruising there from their previous fight, and picked at it, just like Ichigo did with his aching eyes. Ichigo swallowed again; his throat hurt.

‘ _I’m not gonna’ blow it all on a kid like you. Not gonna’ blow it on something that didn’t even matter. Not gonna’ blow it all on a stupid, meaningless crush. Not gonna' blow it on something that wasn't worth it, not on you.’_ Ichigo ended the sentence a dozen times, and took another step back.

Seeing that he was causing harm, Renji started over, his voice more controlled, gentler, but filled with that big-brotherly advice tone that Ichigo hated to hear from him. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then,” Ichigo grit out, his throat mangling his voice.

“I’m saying, you’re _young_ ,” Renji’s face scrunched up then, and he half-sobbed, half-laughed, smiling wretchedly and scrubbing at his face with his palm. “You’re so goddamn young, and you’re a human.” Ichigo didn’t breathe, not believing what he was hearing as Renji went on. “Experience life, do some crazy shit. You’re a teenager for god’s sake. There’s so many things you haven’t gotten to do and see.”

“You-!” Ichigo burst, holding his hands up in front of him like he was just barely holding himself back from throttling Renji. He couldn’t even-! He just-! Had Renji really just-?!

“You’re the one who-! You’re the one who came to _me_ and said that you-” he sputtered, frustrated beyond ability to speak without taking continuous breaths to shout at full volume, “I fucking picked _you_ to do those things with! _What is so hard to understand here?! It’s you. That’s what I want my crazy teenager shit to be! It’s you!_ There, I fucking spelled it out! Questions?! What the hell do you not get?!"

“I never should have done that! What do _you_ not get?!” Renji retorted. “God, kid, I‘m not doing this to be mean.”

“Then why, huh?! Why did you tell me you liked me if you weren’t going to let me be with you? If that's not mean then what is it?!”

“I shouldn’t have done that, Ichigo, it wasn’t right! I-” He groaned and scrubbed his face violently, leaving his skin and eyes red when he threw his hands down. “I know I fucked with your head, okay? An’ that was messed up. I never should’ve done that, I shouldn’t have put that in your head, ‘cause now you think it’s gotta’ be me, but it’s not!”

“It is, I don’t know why you’re fighting it!”

“Maybe it seems hard now, but it'll get easier. This'll pass.” He'd told himself that too when he'd been trying to manage the pain, but that had been a big fat-

“I don't _want_ it to pass!” he practically wailed.

“You’ve gotta’ meet people your own age, Ichigo,” Renji insisted flatly, all the aggressive passion leaving his voice. He shook his head and leaned back, exhaling through his nose. Ichigo felt like tearing his hair out.

So he did – well, sort of. He balled his hands up in it and yanked on it like he did when he was nervous and frustrated. “I don’t know why you're being so- so-” God, he couldn’t even think of a good word. What’s something Rukia would say to make Renji feel small and stupid? . . . “ _Bullheaded!_ ” he finally spat.

“You’re a kid, Ichigo,” Renji sighed pitifully, his hand on the top of his head, “and-”

“Not _much_ a kid,” he complained, brows scrunching together, and he hated how much that had sounded like a plea, how much those words had really meant, ‘like me anyways, don’t stop liking me, please don’t do this, it’s not fair.’

“-and I’m a man!” Renji finished stubbornly. “It’s not right.”

“I don’t understand you, Renji! Why does that bother you _now?_  You didn’t care before!” Ichigo threw a hand up and let it smack back down against his leg. He tossed his head in bewilderment, still utterly confounded by Renji’s sudden and complete withdrawal from what had been the beginnings of a relationship after things had been going so well. “We were _fine_ before,” he reminded, “it didn’t even cross your mind! Because nothing was wrong!”

He was getting that weird saliva in his mouth that always came before vomiting, but he kept going anyways, even though it was really hard to admit these things out loud. “Not for a second did I feel like anything we did or said was wrong, and neither did you!”

“’Cause I’m sick!” Renji pretty much flipped his bricks right there, giving an almost hysterical laugh. Ichigo raised a skeptical eyebrow as Renji pushed his bandannas up and dug his nails into his scalp. Renji licked his lip, eyes wide and distressed as he burst out with it again, “I’m _sick,_ that’s why.”

“Oh come on,” Ichigo griped, not doing much to stop Renji from going into full-on self-flagellation mode. He was still doing this horrible smile thing too, the type of smile that wasn’t even really a smile, because smiles were supposed to be happy.

“Sick twisted _pervert_ Renji, dogging after a _kid!_ ”

“That’s not what you think,” Ichigo called him out flatly, arms folded. Come on, no one thought Renji was that kind of creep, who wanted to have sex with little boys. Get real. “You don’t believe that. No one believes that.”

“O-hoh! You know everything, don’t you!” Renji sneered, lip sticking out sourly. Ichigo put a hand to his temple, pressing his thumb in. He’s getting a headache.

“I really don’t know where this is coming from. It’s not like anyone’s even said anything.” Other than Ikkaku, but well, y’know. That didn’t count. They’d already fought about that one. No sense rehashing it.

“That’s because they’re not _saying_ it to _you_ ,” Renji hissed, pounding his chest with his fist, “They say it to _me_. Don’t you fucking get it, it doesn’t matter how much you think you want this. It still makes me a fucking creep.”

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Ichigo said, “’Cause that’s a lotta’ shit if you do.”

“A _CREEP,_ Ichigo! In case you still didn’t hear me!”

“Oh come off it.”

“Just because you don’t want to see it doesn’t make it not true,” Renji insisted. “Ichigo, you’re a young guy. There’s so much you haven’t done. There’s so many amazing things you haven’t had happen to you yet – if I ruined that,” his voice faltered a bit, and his expression scrunched in regret, “I won’t forgive myself.”

“What the fuck is your point here?! So _what_ if I haven’t done things?”

“ _So_ , you should have the chance to-”

“But I wanted it to be _you_ , you idiot!” Ichigo stressed, “You are so fucking dumb.”

“You oughta’ like someone your own age.”

“But I don’t. I like _you_. What’s so wrong about that?” Ichigo shook his head, confused. He deliberately met Renji’s eyes then, trying his hardest to keep his voice level and calm. If Renji wasn’t taking his own decision making skills seriously, getting all crazy and emotional wouldn’t help make the case that he was mature enough to handle this.

“Why are you fighting this so hard?” Really, if nothing else, that’s all Ichigo wanted to know.

Renji’s brow furrowed, and Ichigo saw a sharp flash of shame flit across his face, so quick that it was like someone darting past hedges in a garden, and from the other side, you only saw an instant of color through the thousands of tiny gaps in the leaves before it was gone.  “I don’t…”

Rukia was long gone and it was just them down there together. The sudden quiet now that they weren't yelling at each other made Ichigo realize he hadn’t noticed when everyone else had gone up to leave them alone to tear each other into strips.  

“You don’t _what.”_

He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking down at his toes, shoulders heavy with guilt. “I don’t like what I could do ta’ you,” he grit out, and that was the last straw.

Ichigo completely blew his stack at that one, whipping his arms up above his head. “What you could _do_ ta’ me?! What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“I can’t live with it, Ichigo! Okay? I can’t sleep with that on my heart, if I’m the person who hurts you,” Renji blurted quickly, and Ichigo honest to god wanted to hit him in the face. He didn’t think he’d ever been angrier in his entire fucking life. “It’s not a fair playing field, for me ta’ just-” He banged his hands on his forehead. “You’ve gotta’ learn these things with someone your own age! God _damnit_ , I won’t be that guy who drags you into his sick world just because you don’t know better!”

“ _What_ sick world?!”

“It’d be taking advantage, when you've never done anything, and I… It wouldn't be fair. If I hurt you-”

“Hurt-!” he burst, then huffed and started again. “Okay, one, you give yourself way too much credit to think you could take advantage of me,” Ichigo stated, voice alarmingly even, so much so that he surprised even himself, because he didn't feel calm on the inside. Inside, he was an inch from the point of detonation. “In case you don’t remember, I can kick your ass any day of the week. You can’t beat me anymore, Renji. Those days are long over. I don't know why you think you can hurt me.”

“It’s different,” Renji stubbornly countered.

“Don’t, okay?! Just don’t!” Ichigo barked. “Don’t you dare talk down to me like you’re afraid of breaking my poor little heart! That’s a load of bullshit! Pick a different excuse!”

“Ichigo, knock it off already!” Renji paced a few steps away, shaking his head, huffing and staring off at the fake skyline. “No matter what you say or think about how strong you are, or how much you think you can take, or how much you know about the world, you’re seven goddamn teen! Just seventeen!”

“So what?” he shouted at Renji’s back, “So fucking what?! I'm not afraid, Renji! What are you running from?!”

Renji gave this horrible laugh and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face before turning back to him. He smiled sadly and Ichigo’s going to hit him, he’s really gonna’ hit him if he says what he thinks he’s going to say.

“Look Ichigo, I’m sorry. This is where it stops.”

His fist is clenched. It’s coiled and ready. But it doesn’t move. Ichigo just let those words play again and again, and, “That’s it then?”

“That’s it,” Renji repeated, his voice strained, tired, stretched thin. “I was outta’ line ta’ tell you what I did, an’ I’m sorry I let you think that this could go somewhere. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ever looked at you like that.”

Ichigo shook his head for a long time, blinking, finally just staring into Renji’s eyes. Renji gazed back at him sadly, and Ichigo didn’t know why he was just standing there not saying anything else instead of walking away or something. Renji just looked and looked at him like he couldn’t bear to stop even though he’d just apologized for ever looking at him with a lover's eye, for ever letting that wild, precious, fragile thing live, for feeling that same thing that Ichigo had for him, that Ichigo had been so happy to be able to feel. He was looking at Ichigo almost imploringly, as if begging him to change his mind, to keep arguing, to give him a reason to give in. He wanted to be talked out of it; he'd stopped this in its tracks, but wouldn't walk away from it, gazing at him with an almost obscene longing.

He didn’t know why Renji was doing this, keeping Ichigo just out of reach even though they both wanted nothing more than to be together. He didn’t know why Renji was making this harder than it needed to be. He always did that, come to think of it. From what he’d heard about Renji and Rukia’s separation, a big part of it had been that Renji hadn’t felt good enough for a long time, and had slaved to move up in the ranks and stand equal to Byakuya so that he could be worth something before he faced Rukia again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have talked to her before then, and it definitely wasn’t like Rukia had actually said that he wasn’t good enough to show his face around her, but all the same, Renji hadn’t let himself be close to her.

Why did he do that, make excuses to keep the people he cared for the most the farthest away? It was dumb as shit. What was he afraid of?

“Why the fuck do you do that, huh?”

There was no point in Renji thinking he was a pedo. It wasn’t like Renji had ever done anything creepy to him. He hadn’t pushed himself on him or groped him. He hasn’t played mind games. He hasn’t even _kissed_ him, for god’s sake. As far as Ichigo knew, there hadn’t ever even been a sign that Renji wanted him like that – like _that_ , you know? Renji had been – and Ichigo cringed to think it – a gentleman, and yet here Renji had himself completely convinced that he was touched in the head, that he was some kind of child predator. He was acting like he’d already hurt Ichigo and had to get away from him to keep him safe. He was scared of himself, hadn't trusted himself to be with Ichigo.

But that was shit. They could’ve kept going as they had been; things had been moving monumentally slowly. Nothing had needed to change, but Renji had jumped the gun, Renji had freaked out for no reason, he’d gotten scared before anything bad had even happened. It reminded him of a half-wild dog that scratched at a door and then hid when it opened.

“Why the hell do you do that?” Ichigo demanded again when Renji didn’t respond at first.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Renji snapped, nerves frayed to the quick, his eyes defeated and shot through with blood.

“There were other options, you know,” Ichigo said slowly, eyes narrowed. “It’s not like the first thing you did was grab me by the dick or push your feelings on me. You didn’t have to approach the way you did. You could’ve done that stuff, you could’ve taken advantage or done all that shit you said, but you didn’t – so it makes like, _no fucking sense_ that you’re talking now like you have to protect me from you,” he rambled, “like you’re this dirty-rotten heartless tramp an’ I’m some untouched, driven snow-”

“Ichigo, you’re seventeen,” Renji rasped, seeming both relieved and exhausted by his unwillingness to let the subject drop, “I can’t just… I mean, I’m not gonna’-”

“Just because you ‘aren’t gonna’ doesn’t mean shit. That’s not the point. There were other options. Everything was perfectly fine. W-” He halted, swallowing. “I was happy. There wasn’t one second that I was afraid of you, or- or whatever the fuck. It was fine. _You’re_ the one who-” Ichigo shook his head. “I dunno’ what happened ta’ freak you out, because I don’t buy that one word from Ikkaku made you do all this, but whatever it is...”

“Ichigo-”

“My point is, I was fine. You’re the one who went nuclear and decided ta’ fucking _run._ ”

“Run?!” Renji howled.

“You know what I think?” Ichigo grumbled, getting in Renji’s space, voice sharp and low, “I think this is on you. You’re scared about something. You got freaked out and now you’re just making excuses so you can bury it and run away from it.”

“What the fuck do you mean, _run?!”_

“I guess what Ikkaku said really _did_ get you mad, huh. Made you think about stuff you didn’t want to.”

“Don’t go all psycho-babble on me, Ichigo, I fucking swear-”

“It’s okay, you can get pissed, I don’t care.” Ichigo narrowed his eyes, curling his lip. Renji leaned from foot to foot, breath hissing from his nose like an angry bull, a nerve in his cheek pinching. “You wanna’ hit me? You can’t fucking stand it, can you,” he growled lowly, “I see right through you, Renji. You hate that.” His gaze flicked from eye to affronted eye, and he didn’t back down. “You’re terrified a’ that.”

“Of course I am!” Renji snapped, and by this point, he looked crazed _._  He’d fucking lost it. His eyes were wild and his voice was raw and deep, _pained_. “Of course I’m fucking scared! I don’t like what I wanna do ta’ you, do you fucking understand?!” He grit his teeth and glared at Ichigo, eyes blazing with guilt, “I fucking hate what I feel when I look at you, Ichigo.”

“Run away then,” Ichigo spit. “You’re good at it by now.”

If he’d thought Renji had lost it just moments before, he’d been way off, because after that final prick in his side, Renji lunged for him. It felt like that’s all they’ve done lately is fight, all they’d done lately is hurt each other when what they want to do is the opposite. It didn’t make sense and Ichigo hates it, but he doesn’t know how else to get out the frustration and the confusion, the resulting anger. He hated feeling helpless, he hated not knowing what was going on. He hates this state of inbetween he and Renji were in. Before, he had been trying his hardest not to wreck anything, but that’s all he wanted to do now, was wreck this – destroy it, obliterate it.

Take it back out.

Ichigo didn’t know at what point he’d left his body, but it felt like no time at all had passed between Renji’s enraged roar and the clashing of their swords and the repeated bursts of sparks that resulted from the violent scraping of metal on metal. It’s been a long time since they’ve fought against one another, and it’s harder than he’d anticipated. Zangetsu doesn’t seem to want to cooperate fully. Stubborn sentimental ass.

He’d gotten Renji mad at him before – hell, Renji’s ticked him off a fair amount of times, but it hasn’t gotten this bad since they’d literally been trying to kill each other that day so long ago when Ichigo had first come to Seireitei. Even then, Ichigo had never seen Renji this upset. Renji was really really mad. After just one strike from the bankai Ichigo was still unfamiliar with, the bones in his arms felt like they were going to splinter under the force.

He got Renji too, and he didn’t have it in him to feel bad that Renji started to move slower and heave with effort under the immense pressure of his spiritual energy. Gaah, he’s so mad! Fuck Renji, that asshole! _He’s such a dick!_ Why does he always have to-

Ichigo grit his teeth against the hot unwanted wave of emotion that engulfed him and instead let the furious fires blaze higher and higher.

He didn’t know how long they went, because the sun never set down there, but they fought until they were exhausted, taking out their rage on each other until they could hardly stand up. Ichigo was almost getting bored at this point – he wasn't so angry anymore, more bitter, and was only keeping this up out of stubbornness and pique. Renji is not fucking winning this one. He’s going to break any second now, he just knows it.

Renji, mulish to the bitter end, kept trying to land a hit on him even though he was dripping with sweat and his technique was falling apart. They stood there quivering for a moment with their swords locked together and glared into each other’s eyes. Ichigo scowled, and then yelped as Renji put on a sudden burst of speed, nearly taking his ear off with an aggravated growl.

“What the fuck, man?!” Ichigo shouted, clapping a hand over his ear protectively, because goddamn it, he needed that thing. “Ahk!” he blurted in surprise, hopping back as Renji lunged for him again and again, and finally stood still, shoulders heaving.

“You know what?” Renji growled, voice hardly more than the shudder of his exhausted breath. His hair was a mess and his face was filthy with sweat and dust.

“What?” Ichigo threw up his blade just in time to block a final desperate and frustrated blow of Renji’s sword. He jerked his head back away from Renji, who was in his face, teeth bared and breath seething through them like steam through the grates of a coal furnace. He still didn’t think he’d ever seen Renji this furious with him, this off-the-rails out-of-control angry. He wouldn’t be surprised if they never recovered from this, if they couldn’t remain friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if the next thing Renji said was a profession of never wanting to see his fucking face again.

He doesn’t want that more than anything. Sure, he’s had to leave behind everyone he’s grown attached to here before, but he’d had the chance to say goodbye, he’d left them as he’d known them, they’d gone away on good terms, with fond memories. To know that the last thing they’d done and said had been so vicious, when really what he felt for Renji was this beautiful powerful thing, what he thought of when Renji’s name was said was a sweet idiot, a guy who likes to play tough but is a sap at heart -

Ichigo would live, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t think he would ever live the same.

Unable to take it, Ichigo groaned, and with all the strength he had left, struggled to push their locked blades back, and Renji with them – but at that moment-    “You win.”    -he lurched forward, nearly losing balance when the resistance he’d expected to meet fell completely away, Renji’s sword pretty much dropping into the dirt, hanging limply from his hand. Ichigo’s sword clattered to the side, almost falling out of his grip in his surprise.

“What?” Ichigo breathed, his voice slipping out of the word as it cracked and failed halfway through. He was looking at Renji’s face, he knew so because the edges of his vision were red and black, but he couldn’t see shit.

There might’ve been a pause between that word and the next moment, but if there had been, it had been so infinitesimal that Ichigo’s slow human brain hadn’t been able to process it. From one moment to the next, he’d been speaking, and then he’s being mauled, swallowed whole, Renji’s hands having seized his face and _yanked_. Ichigo almost can’t understand what had happened because of the speed and what seemed like a complete non sequitur. One second they’d been fighting, and now- They suddenly weren’t. Now Renji had his skull caged in his hands, palms molded against his cheeks and holding his head still, his mouth sealed over Ichigo’s in a searing kiss.

His lips hurt from the sudden smash of their mouths coming together, where his teeth had banged the tender inside. He can’t see; there’s nothing there but touch and maybe the few crisp red blowaway strands that he can manage to focus on. He’s still so surprised that he’s feels like a computer in error state, still running but not processing anything. He knows his hands are open and empty at his sides; he can feel air touching the skin between each spread finger. It’s warm, bone-meltingly warm, like sunlight on your back.

Ichigo’s never been kissed before and it feels like floating.

Then Renji made this noise and his body surged against Ichigo’s, his head tilting a bit more to kiss at Ichigo’s slack mouth, his fingertips pressing against Ichigo’s scalp where they cradled his head and dug through his hair. The conscious thought that he was being kissed finally penetrated Ichigo’s cerebral cortex and his body flooded with a sort of warm chill, all his hair standing up in excitement. Renji hummed again on his next breath, and Ichigo shuddered, every tensed and strained muscle turning to putty. Ichigo’s heart picked up speed, his stomach getting that tight and airy feeling, and he just relaxed into it even though Renji was holding him so tight and pressing against him so hard that he might leave a lip-print on Ichigo’s face afterwards. Renji’s kissing him, he’s-

It broke suddenly, and their lips being yanked apart felt like being awakened by an abruptly dumped bucket of ice water. Ichigo reeled, vision blurry and unfocused, and a moment after their mouths separated, Renji’s hands on his face did also, and Ichigo pretty much fell on his ass.

Oh god, he’s woozy. Had he even breathed once during that whole thing? His head is spinning like crazy.

Ichigo lifted his hands to his cheeks and felt them, pressed his fingertips into them, and hardly felt anything. His face felt funny. “Hey,” he heard someone say, but he just kept swimming in this warm numb fuzzy feeling. That was- That was great!    “You okay, kid?”

There was a hand on his arm, tight and hot, half-lifting his arm and keeping him from flopping backwards. Ichigo’s legs shake with strain; he’s so exhausted. His head keeps spinning round. It made sense really. He hadn’t eaten lunch yet today, or breakfast, and wow, that kiss was amazing.

“Hey. Don’t scare me.” Someone shook him. “Dude.” Another shake, and Ichigo’s head lolled forward for a minute. “Fuck.”

There was a hand to his cheek, and it was so hot that Ichigo responded. His mouth felt loose, and it was hard to talk, like after a dental operation that had required novocaine. “Muh? Wha’?” he mumbled confusedly, his lips tingling, his vision finally starting to clear enough that he could make out that Renji was holding him by the shoulders and checking his pupils. Renji put his hand to his forehead as if to feel for his temperature, and his brow scrunched in worry.

“You gonna’ pass out?”

“What?” Ichigo complained, voice a bit sluggish. His eyes drifted close and he lurched forward, straining a bit against the firm grip Renji had on his shoulder. He wanted to kiss him again. He was okay; it didn’t matter that he felt like he couldn’t stand. That’s just because… that’s because-

“C’mon, don’t stop now,” he mumbled, eyes drifting closed, hot breath coming through his lips feverishly. He’ll just keep floating like this until Renji holds him that tight and secure again, anchoring him in one spot.

“...”

The hand on his forehead slips off with a tight strangled sort of noise. “ _God damnit.”_

And Ichigo was being kissed again and he felt like a string of Christmas lights being connected to the wall socket. Or maybe it’s eating the whole box of chocolate even though he’s not supposed to and still not feeling the least bit guilty about it – or maybe it’s finding the warm spot on the bed, or floating underwater, cool behind the ears and on the eyelids and between every toe.

Or even, just maybe, it’s like ripping off a bandaid and finding that it hadn’t caught any of the hairs and that the scab beneath is gone.

. . .

When someone was finally sent down to check on them, they’d dragged themselves to the hot springs and, still unable to get out – or you know, hardly goddamn _move_ , because they’d kind of overdone it earlier – had been forced to stay there and let Rukia lecture them about bounds of reason and reckless behavior. They took it as well as anyone could take that kind of berating; Rukia beat them on the heads while they sat in the water, shoulders hunched in shame. That woman sure knew how to make a guy feel stupid.

And well, maybe it had been stupid. Ichigo didn’t even remember what he’d been mad for. He was just glad it was over, and maybe – just maybe – he was gloating a bit, on the inside. Renji kissed him! Renji really liked him!

“I hope you’re fucking happy, Rukia, I did what you said and I feel like a total dick now.”

“Why, because it worked?”

“ _He fucking passed out!”_

“Did not,” Ichigo mumbled quietly, and was largely ignored.

“I call that a success.” Ichigo felt a surge of conflicting affection and annoyance for Rukia when she shot a double-thumbs up. He didn’t know how he’d ever survived without that woman, as hard as her knuckles might be on a tender scalp.

“FOR WHO?!” Ichigo sighed, bubbles tickling his nose as he rolled his eyes and floated around in the deep center of the spring.

“Damnit, Rukia, o _uch!”_ Renji cussed, swatting at her as she knocked him on the head for the who-knows-what-the-score-was time. Ichigo had given up responding to her ten minutes ago and had gotten depleted beatings for it. Renji was stupid and kept arguing with her; the poor doomed soul didn’t learn.

“-Monkey-brained moron! If you’d listened to me earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have had to beat each other’s faces in first like that! And another thing!”

“I’m not a moron, Rukia! It was a mistake, okay?! What do you want from me?!”

“I’m endlessly astounded that you graduated the top of your class and still manage to be so monumentally stupid.”

“Yeah, but I-! _Rukia, you’re like_ - _!_ ” Renji screamed, “You know what, never mind! _Fine!_ You’re right!” And the twenty minute argument was over, Rukia one, Renji zero.

Rukia didn’t rub it in… much. Not other than nodding her satisfaction, which pretty much made Renji burst a vessel.

“Pff,” Ichigo snorted, sinking underwater enough that his mouth was underneath, only his steam-heavy hair and his distrustful tiny-bony-fist-wary eyes peeked above the surface. Unfortunately for him, the rush of bubbles drew Rukia’s attention to him. Ah shit.

He was tempted to duck under completely, but she’d have him when he came back up to breathe. He’d have to sometime.

“What do you have to smile about, Ichigo? Don’t pretend you handled this any better than this fool,” Rukia needled. Ichigo’s eye twitched. “Moron-Two.”

“Don’t affiliate me with him when you’re insulting me! And I’m not a moron either!”

“Pssh,” Renji snickered, and Rukia lost control of that faux-serious look she used when she was trying to channel Byakuya, laughing at him too behind her hand. He hated when they ganged up on him. It reminded him of how they’d met him in Hueco Mundo with a double beating, or embarrassed him in front of his class by holding him still and kicking him in the face. Couple of jerks.

“Oh shut up.” Ichigo ducked back down in humiliation, glaring at Renji and letting water fill his ears so that he didn't have to hear his dumb laughing.

Seeming appeased, Rukia’s righteous tirade abated and she eagerly asked Ichigo if this meant he was coming back to Seireitei. When would he come back? Where would he stay? She’s going to make a room up for him, he can help her with these green unseated members who still make the mistake of panicking in battle – What has he been up to?

Renji smiled fondly, one arm up on the edge of the bath, fingers playing on the edges of the water as he lounged lazily and watched as Rukia chattered and Ichigo responded in his usual deliberately casual and bored ‘cool’ tone. His other hand, suspiciously having gone AWOL was discovered when some unidentified object brushed against Ichigo’s arm, giving him a momentary scare when he thought it was a fish or something – before he remembered that that was impossible, of course.

Renji didn’t react other than his smile becoming a smirk and his other hand rubbing on his lips to try and kill it before Rukia noticed he was fucking around. Ichigo’s eyes slid back to the side, glaring a bit to tell him to knock it off. He told Rukia yeah, he’d been practicing his kidou – he has – and he was getting better – he’s not, he’s really not.

The second time Renji made a swipe for him, it hit its mark and it was teasing, searching. He pinched lightly at Ichigo’s hand, tickling him with one finger like he was scratching a cat, the way he had before in the Eleventh Squad’s yard, the day they'd split up. Ichigo withdrew a bit, eyes involuntarily dropping from Rukia’s, his chest tightening in simultaneous embarrassment and that same familiar fluttery excitement. ‘ _Renji_ ,’ he thought annoyedly. _‘Not in front of-’_

Renji curled his fingers around two of Ichigo’s in an unexpectedly tender gesture, and Ichigo was weak. He fought not to drop his head into his palm. ‘ _Damnit.’_

“Where do you think you’ll stay? I know the Zarak-Corps will take you long term. I think they’ve had a petition made, actually.”

Ichigo groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“He’ll stay with me,” Renji rumbled, his low voice practically vibrating through the water, or maybe Ichigo’s brain was just tricking him into thinking so because they were fucking holding hands. “If he wants,” he added after it was clear someone had pressed the pause button on Ichigo.

“Room with you again?” Ichigo finally muttered when it was clear they were both staring at him and waiting for his reaction, Rukia with a sort of perverse delight, Renji, somewhat uncertain but trying to appear confident.

“For ‘s’long as you want.” Renji squeezed on his fingers and if Ichigo ever caught him trying to pretend in future that he wasn’t the biggest softie on the planet, he’d never let Renji hear the end of that shit, because that was the dirtiest fucking lie ever concocted. “Not that you have to. Only if you wanted to, I mean.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t.”

‘ _He does! Well, you know, maybe he might_ consider _.’_  Ichigo cleared his throat.“Uh, why not?” he asked, trying his best not to let his tone betray him. Luckily his carefully honed high school skill of sounding aloof didn’t fail him.

“Ichigo, you’ll go nuts there in a week. Renji’s lived the bachelor life for ages now, and his house shows it.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I saw,” Ichigo mentioned, looking back to Renji, who had gone suspiciously quiet. When he saw him, he was glaring daggers at Rukia, who raised her eyebrows and singsonged that it had only looked presentable because Renji had begged her to help him clean it.

“He knew how clean you keep your room and told me that if you saw the way he lives, you’d never want to be associated with his dirty slobby ass ever again.”

“I didn’t say all that! And I didn’t beg,” Renji denied petulantly, his lip sticking out as he deliberately ignored meeting Ichigo’s shit-eating grin. “Wipe that look off your face.”

“He even promised to do me – how many favors was it again?”

“Rukia, I swear to god, if this water wouldn’t sear your flesh off, I would drag you in here and make you eat those words.”

“Small blessings.”

“Rukia, dang you!”

Ichigo hid his smile under the water and let Renji’s thumb trail absently against his palm. Okay, maybe he had liked Renji after all. Maybe he had felt funny inside to see Renji smile, and when he thought about those words, “If you ever can’t keep going, I’ll carry you on my back,” maybe it did matter to him.

Maybe he had liked Renji, just a little.


	7. Seven

_I wanna love you, but I’d better not touch. I wanna’ hold you, but my senses tell me to stop._

_. . ._

Ichigo was ready to kill his boyfriend.

Which sucks, you know, because he hasn’t had him for that long.

The reason for this plotted murder? You’d think that after Renji had stopped with his _stupid_ ‘no hugging, no kissing, and absolutely _no_ sex’ policy, Ichigo would feel much improved. I mean, they’d kissed recently – actually for the first time since Ichigo had been seventeen and struck dumb in Urahara’s basement by Renji’s lip-punch.

They… Ichigo didn’t like to call it _cuddling,_ but he didn’t see what else to call lying together and hugging and being all mushy. They did a lot of that in the evenings and Renji’s free afternoons, and they kissed – lightly, no more than small pecks – several times a week. It’d be a logical assumption to think that they were making progress, right?

Well not exactly, no, because Renji was an illogical weird-ass dude.

Renji still wouldn’t get hanky panky with him or anything. They did kiss in private sometimes now, and held hands, and would be nice to each other when no one was there to know, but that almost made it worse. Because now Ichigo had gotten a taste of what he was missing out on.

Don’t get him wrong. There _had_ been a slight improvement. Ever since he’d taken Grimmjow’s crazy-ass advice to finger-fuck Renji in the heart until he gave in, things have been better. It had gotten them dating again and it had gotten Renji to start kissing him again. He figured he’d just have to keep pushing.

Revisiting that advice of Grimmjow’s for a facet he hadn’t yet explored, he decided his next plan of attack was laying an ambush. Yeah, so, he planned to ambush Renji the next time they train, afterwards, which was when Renji’s forces of resistance were the weakest.

Yeah, Jaegerjaquez has turned him into an evil little shit.

Anyway, Ichigo had chosen after training because that was the best time to throw a wrench in Renji’s plans to save room for the holy spirit or keep Ichigo pure until marriage or whatever the fuck they were doing this dumbass waiting thing for. It was the moment of opportunity in which he had the best possible chance of breaking Renji’s fiercely held control.

They were always both exhausted and horny and tense and ready to go at it, after their sparring had long since turned into something like foreplay - and at the point when neither of them could breathe easily or stand straight, they'd stumble their sweaty glistening asses into the communal locker room and shower there. Really, how much willpower could a poor nineteen year old boy be expected to have when his mega-hot boyfriend’s dick was out, along with every wet, gorgeous, bulging-

Okay, not a good strategy. Focus.

He didn’t know how Renji did it. He seemed to resist so flawlessly, with so little effort; it drove Ichigo crazy that Renji didn’t seem to suffer for it as much as Ichigo did. He wanted to give Renji a taste of his own medicine. So next time after they got done training and they were all stinky and shit and were heading to the locker rooms together, Ichigo tried to be flirty.

Or as flirty as he could get, which was mildly awkward and completely experimental.

He watched Renji undress a few paces away from him, and swallowed. Renji pulled his two-layered kosode out, minding his own business and bumbling around completely innocently, as if they both _weren’t_ still majorly turned on. He folded up his tops and tossed them onto the bench near his legs, then bent down to untie his waraji.

“Man, I’m starving,” Renji muttered obliviously.

“Yeah…”

Ichigo took a breath. Here he goes.

He shifted a bit, bit his lip, and ran a deliberate hand down Renji’s sticky sweat-percolated back, from his neck down one muscled side of his spine. By the time his fingers reach Renji’s hip, Renji had straightened up, sandals forgotten, sufficiently distracted.

Ichigo let his hand fall away and waited to see what would happen, what Renji would say about being felt up – well, as close as a chicken like Ichigo could get to feeling him up. Renji didn’t speak, but he seemed surprised, and they ended up staring at each other for some time, their chests no further than a few inches apart, rising and falling with lingering exertion from the recent exercise.

Ichigo could see the baby fine hairs on Renji’s neck and shoulders standing up, like he’d gotten a chill or charged by static. He watched a bead of sweat roll down between Renji’s heaving pectorals, and then flicked his eyes back to Renji’s. Ichigo licked his lip, and immediately, Renji swallowed heavily, his fingers twitching.

He started to get really excited by the signals he was pretty sure he was reading correctly, and emboldened by the positive feedback, Ichigo put a hand around Renji’s neck, curling it down the back of his head. Renji shook his head, seeming aghast and helpless, and Ichigo knew he had him wrapped around his finger, dangling by a thread. “ _No,”_ he muttered, swallowing around the word, a deep guttural sound, but he did nothing to stop Ichigo. In fact, he leaned in minutely, his motion stuttered and halting, longing. Ichigo curled his fingers into the hair at the base of Renji’s skull, the strands tightly bound against his head where it was tied up. He watched Renji squirm, struggle, he watched him visibly _ache_ to touch him, and Ichigo knew he could do anything, he could do fucking _anything_ to him. It had taken so little – not even a practiced or particularly ‘sexy’ motion – and Renji was syrup in his hands, warm and pliable and sappy. The surge of power that came with the realization was immensely thrilling.

His first act as the tyrant over Renji’s heart and soul was to bring in his other hand to capture Renji’s face, lean in deliberately, and tilt his head up the inch and a half difference in height to kiss him firmly on the mouth.

Renji responded like he knew he was doing something bad, but couldn’t help himself – slow, hesitant, indulgently, as if he would break at any moment and seize Ichigo like a wild man and ravish him on the floor. Ichigo tested his resistance a bit more, poking and prodding and seeing how much he could take before he fell apart. He wanted Renji to snap, to scare him with how much he wanted him, to give him a thrill he’d never forget. He wanted to see all the passion and desire Renji held underneath the surface, an unstoppable force that had been just barely contained for far too long. Ichigo wanted to be dragged out into the riptide and pulled under, half-drowned, terrified enough that his reserve oxygen would slip out his panicked mouth. And then, just as he was about to lose consciousness… the earth-shattering euphoria.  

Renji’s hands instinctively came to Ichigo’s waist in a slow measured movement, resting there, squeezing as if to keep from roving. His body seemed to strain against the small bit of space keeping their chests from crashing together, and his mouth against Ichigo’s was becoming desperate, almost frantic, pressing back as if to savor every moment, in fear that Ichigo would pull away before he could properly commit this into the deepest annals of his memory. His lips were soft and pliant; his hands, guilty.

Ichigo – half in a last ditch effort to rip him to shreds, and half swept away by the comfort and the relief kissing Renji always gave him – dug his nails into the back of Renji’s head and wormed one arm around his shoulders, gripping onto him with an uncoordinated tilt of his head in an effort to kiss him more fully on the mouth.

Whatever the sound of a carefully balanced sense of control snapping was, whether it be the monumentally noisy bursting of a dam, or the whispered note of a string splitting beneath the pluck of a sharp fingernail, that’s what Ichigo heard. One moment he was embracing Renji and sighing contentedly through his nose, and the next, Renji was on him like an animal, kissing him roughly and groaning. His arms came up around Ichigo’s back and encircled him, squeezing like the coils of a python, and he pressed against Ichigo so hard that he had to take a few staggering steps back, until they hit the wall.

Renji’s hands scrabbled for purchase, blunt nails digging into his back as if he were trying to take out handfuls of his flesh, grip him harder, pull him inside of him. Ichigo gasped in surprise and moaned in response to Renji’s strained hum, opening his mouth when Renji’s tongue tentatively stroked against his lower lip, the last vestiges of his control turning the request into something like begging of a thrall.

Ichigo easily granted him access, and Renji was mad for it. His breath heaved from him in sharp bursts, and he was holding onto Ichigo so tightly, so roughly that Ichigo didn’t know if they could ever unwind again. A stuttered sound escaped him as Renji’s tongue stroked his, ravishing his mouth.

“Oh god,” he gasped against Renji’s lips, the words muffled beyond comprehension. Renji pinned Ichigo’s back to the wall, groaning deep in his throat, low like a wild beast. The frantic voraciousness of Renji’s hands against his body, along with his unhinged demeanor spooked Ichigo enough that a thrill of pleasure shot through him like a New Year’s sparkler had been lit in his belly.

Ichigo felt helpless to his curiosity and his relief and the fright of the force of Renji’s passion. What would Renji do? Oh god, what would Renji do to him? What was going to happen? Ichigo almost couldn’t stand it.

A low rumble crawled through Renji’s chest, deep and threatening, coinciding with the tightening of his hands along Ichigo’s back. Ichigo was sure his hair was standing up all over his head like a porcupine – he sweat and shivered, chest sticking to Renji’s. He didn’t think they’d ever kissed like this. Renji seemed to have thrown all boundaries to the wind, completely having forgotten himself in favor of kissing Ichigo so senseless that he thought their tongues might be knotted, their lips grafted together.

Excited that Renji was giving in a little, that his reluctance to do anything too risqué was melting, _crumbling_ away, Ichigo seized him back with just as much fervor, sighing and humming back against Renji’s mouth, and when the prickles of elation and nervous terror died down a bit, he surged his body against Renji’s. Uncertain on this count, he was ready for Renji to startle like a cow from a corpse, to release him and fling them apart, but still Ichigo would rather try than kick himself later for not taking the chance. He’s harder, more turned on, more electrified than he thinks he’s ever been in his entire life. He knew he was taking advantage of Renji’s slip of control, but he couldn’t help himself. Ichigo had wanted this so badly for so long now, and though he was uncertain and clumsy, he was hopeful that yes… maybe-

He hooked one foot behind Renji’s leg and used the leverage to press himself against Renji’s thigh, against the hard flat plane of his hips, his broad rippled stomach – trying, _trying_ to stimulate this goddamn boner a little.

To his great relief, Renji responded enthusiastically, practically attacking him in his eagerness. His hands slide downwards in a purposeful motion that had goosebumps rising all over Ichigo’s bare flesh, coming to a sudden stop at his bottom, squeezing, gripping, giving him a better leverage to grind against him – and when he said grind, it was more like Renji was manipulating his whole body like putty, like he weighed nothing. Renji rut against him, holding him still by the hips and grunting into Ichigo’s mouth, kissing him with all the dedication and fixation of a vampire drawing out the last drop of blood. Ichigo’s eyes flew open at the feel of it, Renji’s raw desire for him, the rough impacts of Renji’s body against his, the hard slide of their flesh pressing together. He didn’t breathe, plastered against the wall in a cold sweat. Any air left in his lungs seeped out into Renji’s mouth, every muscle seizing tight from surprise. Oh god, Renji’s cock was so hard.

It was scary and wonderful and Ichigo couldn’t believe this was happening! Just a little more…

This noise that would’ve embarrassed him in any other situation escaped as their tongues moved together and Renji’s fingers sank into the muscle of his ass on either side. Pushing his luck – since it had served him pretty well thus far – Ichigo let his hands wander while Renji was hopefully distracted.

His fingers moved down Renji’s side, resting on his hip for the length of several kisses, before bravely sliding down between them. Fuck, he can feel Renji’s erection. He let his hand close around it, his heart pounding like crazy, his fingers shaking, and he paused for a reaction. Renji slowed and sucked on Ichigo’s tongue, drawing a shaky groan from within him; he slowed down, the blind rage of his passion quelling somewhat, as if to make room in his brain to ascertain what Ichigo was doing – but he didn’t stop.

What he did do was release Ichigo’s ass on one side and take his wrist. Their lips broke apart, wet and quivering, connected by a warm strand of saliva that seemed to beg them to join again. Ichigo’s breath rasped between them for a few solid puffs, and then stalled as Renji moved his hand away and returned it to his shoulder.

And Ichigo can’t…

He breathed heavily for a few more moments, brow scrunching in disbelief, the small moment of plateau before nosediving.

He can’t. . . _can’t fucking believe this!_

Renji tried to lean back in to kiss Ichigo again, to pick up where they’d left off, but it was too late. Ichigo’s heart had plummeted into his stomach like a safe dropped from an airplane, and he shoved Renji back. A confused disappointed noise escaped Renji as the breath was punched out of his lungs, and Ichigo threw himself away from him and furiously began ripping his clothes off.

“Ichigo,” Renji tried, his voice scratchy and low. Ichigo ignored him, yanking his tabi off and hurling them to the ground. “Hey, c’mon,” he implored sadly.

Ichigo ignored him still, kicking his clothes into a pile and heading into the showers. Renji followed him closely and tried to get a response out of him again, but Ichigo didn’t acknowledge him other than to snarl wordlessly and turn the water on.

Renji sighed and shucked the rest of his clothes off, moving to a showerhead not far away. Ichigo, further enraged by the sight of water cascading down Renji’s tattooed back and ass, his muscled thighs – fuck, even his ankles look good – leaned his arm against the wall slightly above his line of sight and set his forehead against it, digging it into the wet flesh as he angrily beat off under the shower stream with the other hand.

Renji took a few moments to realize what was going on – maybe he didn’t hear right away because of the running water – but when he did, he startled badly and gasped, whirling around towards him. Ichigo watched his cock twitch before Renji slapped a hand over it. Ichigo grit his teeth, furious, and went back to rubbing one out with renewed vigor.

The intention of this orgasm was a resounding: ‘ _Renji’s such a fucking asshole, hate his sadist ass, he’s such a dick, GAH!-’_

“Are you serious?!” Renji snapped, after recovering his shock and apparently mortification. His cheeks were red, and he couldn’t look at Ichigo directly – although his eyes seemed to try to keep shifting back despite his face being carefully angled away.

“Just shut up,” Ichigo grumbled back, grunting as he took his frustration out.

Renji, seeing no alternative, put a hand up to the corner of his eyes to block his view, trying his hardest to turn back towards the wall, but unable to do it completely. “Ichigo, c’mon, don’t do this,” he pleaded, voice obviously first intended to be a dark threat, but failing horribly.

Ichigo kept going, his breath getting heavier, and maybe because he was fucking pissed at Renji and wanted to hurt him, to really stick it to him and make him suffer, he laid it on a little thick. If Renji was going to- to just- fucking _do that,_  then Ichigo was going to make him fucking sorry!

“Ichigo, what’re you tryin’a’ do ta’ me?” Renji rasped brokenly, and Ichigo felt a small pang of guilt, but not enough to override the overwhelming wave of frustration and betrayal and _anger_ and _spite-_

“ _Nothing_ ,” he spat petulantly, “Same as you.”

Renji seemed struck dumb by that for a time, and then in a few hesitant jerky motions, he looked away, his forehead against the wall and his fist clenched there near his ear as he pointedly didn’t look at Ichigo. Ichigo could see that Renji’s eyes were open and that his other hand was around his cock, not moving, but clenched tightly, as if every last ounce of strength in his body was being used to keep him from, from-

And Ichigo can’t fucking stand it, it makes him so fucking _angry!_

A sound escaped his throat, strangled and wounded, and Ichigo shoved his eyes against his forearm, his mouth falling open as he jerked his hand faster against his inflamed and turgid flesh. His skin was still tingling, fresh from the hot passion of Renji’s hands sliding over it; his mouth was still wet and sweet. He bit his own lips as if he could recreate some of the spark, but it fell short. Another needy noise broke free, explosive, like a bit of debris off a building after the wrecking ball blasted through its foundation, crumbling, doomed, destroyed- Renji, why couldn’t Renji have just- just for a little longer- Oh, fuck, he’s going to cum-

Every muscle seizes, every second of frustration and fury and desperation comes to a hot burning head, and bursts – and it feels like an atom splitting.

_…!_

“God damnit!” Renji shouted, pounding his fist against the wall, digging his nails into his scalp and yanking his hair tie out and letting his hair soak under the high-pressure spray. His head hung, just touching the wall as if ready to bash his skull open there at any moment; his hands were pressed to the tile, white at every knuckle.

When the intense rush of endorphins started to calm down, when everything seemed a little easier, a little better, not as bad, not as tight – after that sweet release – Ichigo moved.

He sagged and sighed, his breath coming to him in painful gasps, burning in his lungs like dry ice on bare flesh. He sagged there against his arm for a moment, maybe two, before he stood straight and rinsed his hand under the shower spray. He was keenly aware of Renji’s scowl, but simply stared at the wall in front of him and breathed, washing his own hair and armpits and refusing to be embarrassed that he'd just whacked off in front of Renji.

Renji rocked on his toes for a moment, taking a breath as if to give him a piece of his mind, but then he stomped out. Ichigo followed not long after, every muscle loose and jellified, wobbly, burning as if after a thorough stretch. Renji sat there on the bench, having dried off – he was trying to put his fundoshi on, which wasn’t working out for him.

Ichigo felt like saying something, because post-orgasm he didn’t care about shit, he’d say anything to anybody, everything is cool - he wanted to say something, because it was a little funny that a guy couldn’t get his dick into his own underwear, but Renji is so obviously unimpressed with him right now that it’s not that funny after all.

Renji gave up for the time being, slapping his hands to his thighs, and gave Ichigo a murderous glare. Ichigo mildly grimaced and glanced from Renji’s penis to his face, then raised his eyebrows as if to sarcastically prod, ‘ _you mad?’_

Yeah, he was. Furious, in fact.

Remarkably restrained, Renji snapped quietly, “Just so you know, I don’t wanna’ see your fucking face right now-” Ichigo, already having heard enough, rolled his eyes so hard that his head went with it, and he headed for Renji’s used towel, drying off with it and reaching for his scattered pile of clothes. “So once we walk outta’ here, your ass is toast.”

Ichigo paused in tying up his hakama, and he and Renji glared at each other for a long time. His dick was away now, so it was easier for him to be intimidating, but honestly, Ichigo was still mad at him too; more bitter, actually. If Renji was ticked about being horny, it was his own fucking fault. Ichigo had nothing to do with it. Renji was the one who- Ugh, it was making him mad again just thinking about it.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the straining bulge in Renji’s underwear and sassed, “You’re a martyr to your cause.”

That must’ve just been _it_ , because Renji’s cheeks puffed up with a held-in scream and he threw himself off the bench, lunging for him in an impressive leap. Ichigo dodged and bolted, ducking and running around corners and wet patches, trying to keep space between them as Renji chased him wildly and threatened to kick his ass once he caught him. Ichigo hurtled down another row of lockers, and, looking back for a moment, was startled when he ran headlong into Renji as he rounded the next corner and sent them to the cracked ground, getting several cuts and scrapes for it.

He tried to scramble away, but Renji nabbed him by the leg and held him down and hit him for a while. Ichigo, not one to be beat, wrapped his legs around Renji’s chest and threw his weight against him, and they rolled around on the wet ground, pulling hair and grappling and hitting each other halfheartedly. Variations of “You make me so fucking mad!” were shouted several times on both sides, and they exchanged a few blows that ended in them sitting sulkily back to back as they finished getting dressed.

They were quiet for a long time, and Ichigo pouted unabashedly, resting his temple on his knee once he was done putting his clothes on. He picked at his toes, and despite how angry he was, he was overcome with a strange urge to reach for Renji’s hand. Not that he’d do it, of course. He was still mad at him, that fucker.

… Renji’s back was slightly damp against his bony spine. He wondered if there were any nail marks there from… you know, when they’d been loving on each other.

Ichigo miserably dug his brow into his patella and mourned a lost opportunity.

Renji, considerably more angry than Ichigo had expected him to stay, finally broke the tense silence with a warning of, “If you ever pull something like that again-”

Ichigo, not done pushing Renji’s buttons and protecting his title as the sassmaster, mumbled childishly, “What’re you gonna’ do about it, huh?” Before Renji could answer, he asserted, “Oh right - nothing, that’s what.”

Renji’s back swelled against his, a deep infuriated intake of breath expanding his ribcage. “Ichigo, I swear to god-”

“Ehh, just fuck off.”

There was a punctuated moment of silence and Renji’s muscles going tense against his back, jostling him slightly, before he burst out with, “You’re such a fucking brat!”

Ichigo turned his head the other way, resting his cheek on his leg, picking at his feet with a single finger. He listened as Renji put his sandals on in an extremely angry fashion – if such an action could ever be described as such.

Finally – because Renji always got kind of antsy when Ichigo went quiet for too long – he muttered, “Don’t.” He took another breath, as if to calm himself and refrain from spitting out what he might really want to say instead.  “Don’t you ever do that again,” he finished quietly, sourly.

Ichigo gave a long noncommittal sigh that reeked of exasperation, but privately, he resolved not to do something like that again. It _had_ been kinda’ mean, yanking Renji’s chain like that… He’d just gotten so mad when Renji had-   Ugh, whatever.

“Renji?” Ichigo hummed after a few more quiet minutes in which Renji seemed to have stopped being so mad. His hard-on had probably gone away, which would explain his more forgiving attitude.

Renji grunted in response, tilting his head to the side a bit so that if Ichigo looked over his shoulder, he could see his sideburn, the tip of his nose.

“Are we ever gonna’ do it?” he mumbled, a bit vulnerably. He held onto his toes tightly, practically pinching them. “How long are you gonna’ drag this out?”

Renji turned back around, straightening up for a moment so he could tuck his yukata in a bit better, breaking contact between their backs. He let some air seep out of his nose in a slow measured amount, like he did when he knew the answer to Ichigo’s question, but didn’t want to say so because he knew it would tick him off or otherwise upset him. He hated when Renji did that. Fuck, would he answer?

Forever? Tomorrow? A million jillion years?

“You know how long,” he finally answered, when Ichigo thought the resounding silence would swallow him.

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered. Renji looked back over his shoulder with a frown, brows scrunched, and Ichigo crudely held his hands apart. Renji stared for a moment, and then suddenly jolted.

“ _Aw!_ That’s disgusting!"He shoved Ichigo on the head hard enough that he almost fell on the ground, and Ichigo just scowled, readjusting so that his elbow rested on his knee, his chin in his palm. He stuck his lip out and glared at Renji, who jutted his chin out right back.

“You’ve gotta’ learn some goddamn patience, Ichigo, some restraint.” Ichigo wanted to roll his eyes, but Renji went on before he could, and he got to thinking. “What would you do, eh? If you were me!” Renji pounded his chest, giving him a frustrated look, grimacing.

“If I were an old man who forgot what being young and horny was like?”

Renji sighed then, long and exhausted. “I’m serious.”

Ichigo thought for a moment to satisfy Renji’s insistence that his answer be a sincere one, and then he shrugged. “I think nineteen’s plenty old enough.”

“Don’tcha’ think that’s a biased answer?”

“You asked what I thought.”

Renji closed his eyes and rubbed his brow with his thumb. “It’s only a few months longer,” he practically whispered, then letting his hand fall with a slap and giving Ichigo a flat tired look.

“A few months won’t make me that much older, you know,” Ichigo noted, somewhat gently, because Renji was starting to get that guilty sad look around the edges of his eyes again. He hated that, he really did. Not just because it was an inconvenience and caused them to fight a lot more than was necessary, but because he really didn’t like when Renji felt like shit about himself.

“I don’t see the point,” Ichigo said honestly. “You just wanna’ have something to tell yourself that you’re not a hentai.”

‘ _It won’t change how you feel,’_ is what he wanted to say. If Renji really thought that way about himself, if that guilt was real, Ichigo didn’t really think that him turning twenty would take that feeling away. Renji would find something else to beat himself up over, he’d still have that inside him. Kinda’ sucky really. He wanted to say all that, talk about it to see if maybe Renji would agree or mull it over and maybe be able to get past it on his own, but Renji spoke too soon for Ichigo to work out how to say so.

“Pff’, so?” he shot back defensively, bristling at Ichigo calling him a pervert, even if indirectly.

“So,” Ichigo retorted rather exasperatedly, scratching at his hair, “You’re doing mental gymnastics about something dumb.”

“I’m not dumb.” Renji stuck his lip out and narrowed his eyes like he did when he was mad that Ichigo had said something smart sounding, or had been generally correct.

“Renji,” Ichigo huffed, throwing his leg over the side of the bench to join his other one, spinning on his butt so that they faced each other. He put the heels of his hands to his temples and let his eyes close for a moment as he shook his head. “I’m losing my fucking mind here,” he mumbled honestly. Sharing in his woes, Renji turned towards him too, his knee bumping against Ichigo’s. One hand crept between them, searching, as if waiting for a partner. “If we don’t shack up soon, I swear to god I’m gonna’ kill something.”

“You know?” Renji said seriously, and Ichigo immediately knew he was bullshitting him, because the corner of his lip was twitching no matter how he tried to sound sincere. “That really gets me, Ichigo. Right here,” he slapped at his heart heavily.

“Oh shut up,” Ichigo grumbled, “Like you don’t wanna’ do it too.” He scuffed his foot a bit, because he was uncertain on that point. It had always seemed like Renji had an easier time of being patient than Ichigo did. Maybe… maybe he _didn’t…_ y’know, wanna’ – not as much as Ichigo, at least.

Renji laughed at that, just a little, a quick burst of air through his nose accompanied by a flash of his teeth in the ghost of his winning smirk. “You make it sound like the basis of this relationship is sex,” he teased halfheartedly, some of their collective stress easing at the sound of the hilarity in his voice.

Ichigo smirked right back, maybe a little bit. “How can it be, we haven’t had sex.”

“Well thanks a lot,” Renji snorted, crossing his arms as if offended. He raised a thick eyebrow and picked his teeth with his tongue, turning his head to the side in a sulk. “For your information, I started liking you because I admire you an’ I respect you a lot,” he mumbled, peeking an eye at Ichigo, unable to keep up with the fake grumpiness, a smile slipping through. “Not like it’s a big deal or anything though,” he teased.

Ichigo turned his face completely away, overcome with smiles to the point that fighting it off or hiding it with his hand wouldn’t have worked.

He thinks he’d liked Renji when he’d spat out his coffee. Maybe that was the first time he’d known, that he’d felt a little something.

Ichigo smiled and smiled. He felt Renji’s hand by his leg, and let his hand sneak back behind him blindly to brush against it, prod and poke his way underneath into its grasp.

And what he’d said about the Rukia thing, before. You know, about always being by his side, through whatever troubles might come, seeing things through to the end, together, a promise- He might have known then too.

“An’ yanno’, I guess you’re right,” Renji sighed with a clear smile in his voice. Ichigo let his head pop up, his eyes glancing furtively to try to catch his expression without letting his curiosity be too conspicuous. Renji’s face stretched in a fond grin, his eyes hooded and warm. “You’re not kid enough to be called a kid, really.”

Ichigo’s heart did this stupid thing; Renji had never verbally acknowledged how he’d matured until just then.

Renji’s brow furrowed then, a troubled frown crossing his face as he accepted Ichigo’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb across his knuckles. “But,” he mumbled, distressed, “Ichigo, I feel _weird_ , okay?” He clenched his eyes shut and scrubbed the heel of his free hand across them, as if to reset his vision by pushing the blood out of his optic tissues. Feeling sufficiently guilted, Ichigo had the good grace to duck his head when Renji muttered tiredly and almost pleadingly, “Shouldn’t that be reason enough for you to just say, ‘okay, cool?’”

“Okay, okay, quit with the guilt trip,” Ichigo shot through quickly, pouting a bit, playing with Renji’s fingers. “It just feels like it’s still such a long way to go.”

Renji was quiet for a second, but Ichigo could feel him watching him, the gaze hot against the top of his head. “Hey.” A hand at his cheek convinced him to peek an eye up, maybe for a second. Renji was smiling, that weary but assured smile that he did when Ichigo’s youth and impatience made him feel old. “If we can make it through all the crazy shit that’s happened to us, I _think_ we can survive blue-balls until you’re not underage- Oh god, I feel gross just saying that,” Renji segued, wiping a hand over his face with a squeamish huff.

“Come off it,” Ichigo ordered flatly, giving him an unimpressed look. “I’ve had so much time to think about it, don’t you think that by now I’m sure?”

Renji closed his eyes and shook his head, resting his brow on his knuckles. “Look, I dunno’ anymore. Just indulge me.” Ichigo frowned, sighing. “I need this so that I can feel okay about this whole thing.”

“You just wanna’ be able to tell yourself-”

“I have to tell myself _something_ , Ichigo,” Renji said harshly, eyeing him and shutting him up. “Can’t I just _have_ this? Can’t you just fucking listen to me for once?”

“Fine!” Ichigo snapped back, “fine…” He moped a bit more after his outburst. “It feels like such a long time,” he bemoaned quietly.

“I know,” Renji replied steadily, understanding. “I know.” He brought Ichigo’s hand up to his mouth and kissed on it a bit, flicking his eyes up to Ichigo’s and smiling with them when he saw Ichigo’s mouth had opened to say something and then stayed ajar even after the words had died. Ichigo’s cheeks flushed, his eyebrows raising as he shut his jaw. “Once you’re hatachi…” Renji hummed, the words vibrating against the back of his hands through Renji’s warm lips, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Ichigo tried not to smile, twisting his lips and looking away a little to try to recover from the sudden sugary heat sapping his bones. Renji gave one last kiss to his knuckles before moving their connected hands back down between them with a sigh. “We’ll fuck until we never wanna’ fuck again.” He smiled as Ichigo sharply cleared his throat and scratched his neck.

“I’ll say I told you so that it was a waste of time to wait,” Ichigo mumbled, cheeks still a bit warm.

Renji smiled wider, scootching closer to him and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling Ichigo towards his warm chest. Renji’s leg being up on the bench kept them from getting too close, but it was enough. Ichigo stubbornly didn’t participate in the hug, giving Renji the evil eye, which caused him to laugh. “You can rat on me for the rest of forever, that it was dumb, that it was a waste, whatever.” Renji nuzzled behind his ear, kissing him there once, then breathing jokingly, “We’ll be hookin’ up so much that it won’t be skin off my back.” Ichigo snorted, his mouth contorting in a grin as he leaned back. Renji let him out of the hug, his hands still lingering at Ichigo’s shoulders as he smiled at him, eyes on his face.

“Watch me die before then,” Ichigo muttered with another snort. That’d be his luck.

“What?” Renji shook from a burst of incredulous laughter, his eyebrows doing gymnastics. “From _what?”_ He laughed a little more, pulling on a piece of Ichigo’s hair and then blocking with his forearm as Ichigo slapped at his hand. He gave a large grin, teasing. “A freak accident with a puny Menos?”

“Uhh, my money’s on Grimmjow or Kenpachi.”

“Hah!” Renji blurted, completely losing it for a second in imagination. He snickered for a minute, clapping once and flopping forward, then sighing and shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” He slung his arm around Ichigo’s neck and pulled him in. Ichigo was surprised for less than a second before leaning into Renji’s chest, lying atop him and kissing him with a long sigh, ignoring Renji’s continued occasional smiles and bursts of laughter.

When they walked out of the shower house, feeling a million times less frustrated, Ichigo suggested, “So hey, do you wanna’ go an’- Ow!” A hand flew to his ass and he whirled around to glare at Renji in mortification. Had he just-?!

“What the fuck?!”

“Hm?”

“ _Hey!_ What did you _do_ that for?” Ichigo hollered, face blazing, eyes wide. Renji didn’t seem to think slapping him on the butt like that was a big deal. That hadn’t even been like a love spank, that had really hurt! What the hell was wrong with him?

“What?” Renji replied, raising an eyebrow. “I said when we walked outta’ here, your ass is toast.” Toast, maybe; that had kind of burned. Shit, it was still stinging.

“That was a really long time ago,” Ichigo muttered – some might’ve classified it as whining – as he rubbed his asscheek and followed Renji with hunched shoulders.

“Teach you ta’ tease me,” Renji muttered back, and Ichigo shoved him with a growl of protest.

“Geez, fine! Just don’t-” he sputtered, “ _do_ that again!”

“I don’t see why you’re so embarrassed. You didn’t turn red like that when-”

“ _Oh my god, stop talking!”_

_. . ._

_I wanna' love you, but I'd better not touch- not touch!_


	8. Four

Ichigo had had his eighteenth birthday a few months prior and it had been the best one to date. He knew that giving birthday gifts was more of a modern thing, and wasn’t traditionally done, so he’d been surprised at how many of his shinigami friends had brought him something. Some of them, he really wondered about the choice of gift, but he couldn’t complain when they didn’t know any better – besides, it figured Squad Eleven would give him beer and meat.

In the months since then, he’d been settling into his new life. It had taken some getting used to, since his schedule was a little hectic now. He went back and forth, working with whatever division wanted him to help train or do missions on whatever particular day he was in Soul Society, and at home in Karakura, he worked at the clinic with his old man. It had it’s difficulties; for one, he had to keep bullshitting excuses to the few humans who still called him friend who don’t know about his double life, you know, he had to try and explain where he keeps disappearing to for weeks at a time – but it’s all worth it to be able to see the people he’d grown so close to more often, and still be around for Karin and Yuzu, and for his dad too of course. Couldn’t forget that buffoon. He was welcome everywhere in Seireitei, free to work and learn where he wanted to, and when he got homesick, he was free to leave and spend time with family – when he missed Rukia, he could come back.

Life was perfect.  He couldn’t ask for anything more.

        … Well… not quite. There was that _thing._

He was eighteen now; still not of age, but yes, he’d fully entered the late teens. He was having… the _urges_ , you know? Don’t make fun of him, he can’t help it! It’s just, he was a young man, hot-blooded, equally eager and frustrated. The source of said frustration? One gorgeous older man who continuously refused to acknowledge the sexual tension that existed between them. Damnit, it _did_ exist!

Yeah, if Ichigo had thought that making up in Urahara’s basement like that meant that they were dating, he’d been dead wrong. Oh, it wasn’t like Renji was denying that they both had feelings for each other. No, Renji’d already admitted that, yeah, they like each other – but even after Rukia had ‘convinced’ them both that avoiding each other was counterproductive and dumb, Renji still wouldn’t have him, wouldn’t date him, wouldn’t be his boyfriend.

Which, y’know, shouldn’t bother Ichigo as much as it did, because they were still doing all the same things that they’d done during that one week that they _had_ been dating. When Ichigo was in Seireitei, they trained together, ate together, worked together, battled together, and almost any off-time Renji had, they spent that together too for exploring. Ichigo even slept at Renji’s house for corn’s sake.

But yeah, nothing was going on, Ichigo was sad to say.

For a while there, Ichigo had been admittedly shy and uncertain. He’d thought that after Renji had kissed him like that, he just had to wait on him to make another move or something. Except there _was_ no next move. So much for getting through to Renji, that numbskull.

Ichigo, being the kind of awkward guy he was when it came to sex and, y’know, _feelings_ , hadn’t known what to do next. He was kind of helpless that way; he got embarrassed easily. Plus there was also the fact that he was still figuring out all his own… _stuff_. Maybe it had been a product of being too busy as a young teenager and merely oblivious of his own libido, or the fact that he had been given the convenient and immediate stress release of battle, but he'd never had this _problem_ before. Now that he was a little older and that door was open, y’know, he was feeling the joys and the many many woes of being attracted to someone else.

And it was hard to, you know, raise the subject of, well…

They were coming up on the half a year mark since that kiss though, and there’s only so long an embarrassment of talking about _them_ could keep Ichigo from making a move of his own.

It wasn’t as though he had doubts that Renji felt this… _thing_ too. There were lots of little moments where they’d pause in conversation at a weird time, smile at each other, and then look away – or when they’d stand too close together, or defend one another in arguments when they thought the other couldn’t hear. He knew Renji still liked him. He could see it on his face and hear it in his voice every day they were together. Ichigo had no doubt of it.

But Renji could be a real stubborn ass.

He wasn’t as religious in concealing or eradicating every telling look, and it wasn’t like he _never_ touched him, but they didn’t kiss, they didn’t hold hands, and they definitely didn’t-   Not that it had ever come up.

Okay, it’s come up. Lots of times. It’s come _way way_ _up,_ and that's exactly the problem. They're not talking about it, but Ichigo's got these constant annoying reminders in the form of horribly embarrassing and inconvenient boners.

Ichigo doesn’t like this part of his new life. He felt like he’d never been bothered with this before, but now it’s a daily problem. Renji’s just so-!... Sometimes Ichigo could hardly hold it in, could hardly keep himself from coming up behind him and grabbing him and- and... he doesn't _know_ what! It feels dark and exhilarating, and it scares Ichigo a little, but in a good way.

He supposed that was the difference between him and Renji – Renji had once said he hated what he felt for Ichigo, he hated that he looked at Ichigo and _wanted_ him.  What Ichigo felt for Renji scared him, because it was new, unfamiliar, strong and out of control, but he didn’t _hate_ it. The only thing he hated was being unable to explore it, the not knowing; he hated that Renji was trying to keep him away from it, making it feel like candy being dangled just over his head, perpetually out of reach, frustratingly desirable and unattainable. Yeah, Renji had him on a no-sugar diet. He was a dick like that.

Ichigo had accepted it for now. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

The really annoying thing was that pretty much everyone else knew about them now, and despite the fact that they weren’t really ‘together,' Renji’s friends all gave them shit anyway. Mostly _Ichigo_. Renji got a pass from everyone who thought Ichigo was the one causing their perpetual state of deliberate cockblock.

For one, all of them – _all of them –_ knew that they weren't… you know. He has a hard time with the subject even now. Ichigo still got a little fidgety and overexcited just thinking about it, irrationally worried that others around him might guess his thoughts. However, his embarrassment and shyness towards the subject was holding him back less and less as time went by and the frustration built. One of these days he swore, when one of those _dicks_ made a dumb joke that blamed Ichigo for their misery, he would fucking lose it and scream that Renji was the one who-!

Yeah, so that’s great – everyone knows they’re not fucking. Apparently, it was obvious due to their hotter-than-usual tempers. Anyway, from how much the assholes joke, it’d be perfectly reasonable to think that Ichigo was some prude giving poor Renji blueballs from dawn until dusk, stringing him along like the insecure adolescent virgin he was. I mean, maybe it was a somewhat logical assumption to make, seeing as Ichigo was much younger and very inexperienced, while Renji apparently had this reputation as a megastud? Not that Ichigo would ever admit Renji was such, but, y’know, rumors.

Anyway, it totally wasn’t Ichigo’s fault that they weren’t fucking, or- or kissing, or whatever the fuck! Renji was the one who was frigid! Well no, not really. Ichigo knew that Renji wanted him too, no matter how hard the guy tried to hide it – and he did try. There’s just no hiding how hard they get after sparring these days. Ichigo can’t and doesn’t bother trying, and instead will just hang his head in shame at what he can’t control. What Renji does is pretend his boner can’t be seen from the moon and change the subject while they head to the locker rooms and don’t look at each other.

Ichigo couldn’t stand it, knowing that Renji was turned on by him – _Renji!_  It drove him absolutely wild to know that in all his insecurity and inexperience, he had that effect on someone like Renji.

He'd never admit it to anybody in a million years, but if he were honest, one might learn that he’d masturbated thinking about Renji. It was the only way he could possibly manage the inconvenient erections and try to prevent them from happening during the day, out in the open.

He felt like he’d never had to deal with this before; this was a new facet to life that he could do without. When this whole thing had first started, Ichigo hadn’t experienced this kind of frustration or attraction; he’d more just been excited an older guy was interested – interested in him! Renji of all people liked him!

But now that time had passed and their mutual crush had had time to grow and _fester,_ but not bloom, Ichigo found that as he longed to place his head on Renji’s leg or touch his hair like they had in those first days, he also longed to kiss him, to be pressed against his body, to touch Renji, _for Renji to touch him._

And as those feelings surfaced, it really didn’t help that Renji was in no short supply of sex appeal. Sometimes Ichigo thought that his heart would burst from the excitement of sparring with Renji, getting so turned on that he could hardly go on, could hardly think of anything other than what he wanted but wasn’t allowed to have. He didn’t know why Renji was doing this anyway.

It was so monumentally frustrating that Renji had an obviously superior sense of self-control. Most of the time he acted like he didn’t feel anything at all when he looked at Ichigo, while Ichigo for Renji, sometimes he thought he’d explode from desire and the resulting embarrassment. Ichigo felt like an inexperienced kid more than ever whenever he started to get a little hot under the collar – he couldn’t exactly help it – and Renji continued to appear completely unaffected. So no, Renji wasn’t the one suffering. At least not like Ichigo was. Renji was choosing to torture them both, and Ichigo had to deal.

They didn’t acknowledge it at all. Renji had decided to ignore it for some strange unknown reason and Ichigo didn’t say anything out of embarrassment, I mean, what the hell did you say when your hakama had tented up in the front? And if Renji wasn’t going to say anything about it, Ichigo sure as hell wasn’t!

It was bad when he went home, because at home he didn’t have Renji’s goofy demeanor and carefree grin to remind him that Renji liked him and that just because Renji wouldn’t touch him didn’t mean that he’d _stopped_ liking him. At home, Ichigo thought too much. Sometimes he thought that maybe Renji was deliberately teasing him to watch him squirm, or worse, maybe Renji wasn’t making a move on purpose, was leaving things unresolved so that he’d have a window to escape through in case he changed his mind about Ichigo. Whenever he thought things like that, Ichigo would kick himself each time they argued, even though it was what they always did. What if he’d sounded too juvenile? Too whiny? Too much like an annoying kid not worth bothering about? What if Renji wouldn't want him anymore?

He didn’t dare say anything to Renji either, not wanting to appear needy, but he couldn’t help it. What if Renji only wanted him for that thing now? Was that why he’d said he hated what he felt for Ichigo? Why he wouldn’t be with him now, even after they’d made up? Did he just not want to mess Ichigo up with casual sex?  Oh god, what if it was like that? What if Renji-

No, don’t think about that. Renji wouldn’t yank his chain like that. If nothing was going on anymore, Renji would say something. Ichigo wished he were able to be open about it and ask him why, why Renji wasn’t acting like he had before, when they’d at least touched in private. He wanted to ask why Renji didn’t kiss him again. He didn’t want to worry or analyze every single look or offhand remark or unwanted boner anymore – he just wanted this waiting and wondering to be over.

It’s been like six months, and it’s only been that long because Ichigo has a healthy sense of shame, and is kind of insecure about this whole thing. He would’ve tried to kiss Renji on his own by now, he would’ve tried, in his own awkward way, to initiate some kind of sexual congress, but – and he hated to admit it – he was uncertain and shy.

However, it had been six months being apart but not _away_ from Renji, and Ichigo’s impatience was beginning to outweigh his shame – it won’t be much longer and he won’t be able to stop himself from saying something, from saying _out loud_ for Renji to … come and get it? Ugh, he doesn’t know how to sound sexy at all. It’s no wonder he hasn’t been able to tempt Renji before now.

He just doesn’t understand what he’s doing or not doing to have Renji act like this. Doesn’t Renji want him enough? Wasn’t it normal when two people knew they had reciprocated feelings to come together and progress in their relationship? Ichigo wanted to know what was going on, damnit! He doesn’t want to act like they’re just friends anymore.

Finally, Ichigo built enough confidence to at least raise the subject, and after sparring one day, they were hard as usual, and facing away from each other while changing. It hadn’t used to matter, when Ichigo’d been younger, but these days, they took care of business back to back, because it was rude to stare at a guy while he had a boner.

It was awkwardly silent other than the rustle of clothes and Ichigo’s occasional grunts as he tried to stretch out the muscles in his back – okay, he’s a fucking liar. He’s doing it to test Renji’s reactions. At first, he’d thought he was imagining things, tricking himself into thinking Renji was biting his lip and doing other shit people did when they were getting hot, but now there really was no ignoring it.

He could see Renji peeking.

Renji didn’t know that he’d been caught, but all the same, after a moment or two of giving Ichigo a sort of yearning side-eye, he turned his face back away in a few hesitant halting motions, and then rubbed his palm over his face tiredly, as though he were trying to knead the guilt out of his expression. This had happened before, a couple times. Renji would look like he was considering throwing this stupid not-dating thing out the window, and Ichigo would be sure he was about to break, but then he just… _wouldn’t._

Ichigo exhaled and turned away, scrunching his eyes and hands up so that he wouldn’t be tempted to turn back and run them over Renji’s sculpted back. Why were they holding themselves back? Why was this so difficult?

“… You wanna’ go out for omurice after this?” came Renji’s carefully neutral voice, and Ichigo winced, because there it was. Every damn time, they always avoided talking about it, they always pretended it wasn’t there, but it was.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“…” Ichigo sighed to himself, hands pausing on the sash of his hakama, head bowed. To hell with it.

“Why’re we pretending?” he asked softly, like he was afraid the words would break something otherwise. His brow furrowed, because he didn’t like feeling scared to talk about this; he wanted it so bad. It shouldn’t be so hard.

“This is stupid,” he muttered petulantly.

“Mm,” Renji grunted in reply, and Ichigo supposed he shouldn’t have expected more. Renji’s ignored this for this many months, it wasn’t surprising that he would keep putting up a resistant front.

Ichigo turned to him and watched as Renji untied his waraji and took them off, letting them fall to the ground with a slap. Trying again, Ichigo said rather tentatively, “I don’t wanna’ do this anymore.” Renji’s head snapped up to him at that, a quickly-covered flash of hurt darting across his face. “I don’t wanna’ wait anymore.”

Renji’s expression hardened and he turned away again, not responding. Ichigo waited as long as he could before trying again. He’d done a lot of thinking about why Renji was resisting, and all roads led to his guilt at Ichigo’s age. It had been the prime subject of their fight in Urahara’s training grounds – if he could just find a way to circumvent that, let Renji think he was old enough, then…

“I’ve bulked up, huh?” Ichigo noted, and he has. He’d gotten a little taller again, maybe half an inch, and he’d packed on some muscle. He wasn’t as skinny anymore, although calling him beanpole still wouldn’t be that inaccurate. He definitely doesn’t look like a kid in the sense that Renji would be creepy to be attracted to him. He’s not Shota, god damnit! He had a little body hair, he didn’t have a smooth round stomach like a kid did, he had muscles! Okay, maybe he was kind of inexperienced and clueless, but calling him innocent would be a stretch! Renji shouldn’t feel like he’s a bad man!

“Mm,” Renji grunted again, but didn’t look at him.

“Eighteen’s close enough to a man,” Ichigo stated, but it still sounded kind of like a query, like he was coaxing Renji. “I’ve put on some weight. I can handle you.”

“Mm.”

Ichigo groaned out loud. “Can you stop it with the caveman responses?” That got Renji’s attention.

He whipped around where he was sitting on the bench and pretending to be really preoccupied with taking his tabi off. His ponytail slapped the other side of his face and he bared his teeth like a provoked leopard. “Hey, fuck you!”

“There we go,” Ichigo mumbled in satisfaction. At least if Renji was mad at him, he was talking to him.

“Go suck a dick,” Renji snapped angrily.

“You sure?” Ichigo retorted rather childishly, causing Renji to turn away a bit again, hiding the bump in the front of his hakama.

“Ichigo, enough.” Ichigo fucking hated when Renji used that stern authoritative parental voice, like he was a kid who’d gotten out of control and needed to be scolded as such.

He sighed unhappily, plopping down a ways down from Renji and putting his hands to his cheeks miserably, elbows digging into his thighs. “What are we even doing? What is this?” Renji exhaled, but didn’t turn back to him; Ichigo could see him playing with the strings of his obi.

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

That punched the breath out of Ichigo. Renji was still going to act like- like nothing was even-?

Practically slumping, dropping his eyes into the palms of his hands, Ichigo spoke to the ground. What is he doing wrong that Renji doesn’t want to be with him?

“I don’t know why this is happening,” he mumbled, “What am I-” He bit his lip. His throat hurt. “I mean, what do I-”

“Ah, don’t think about that shit, Ichigo,” Renji replied, seeming to feel somewhat bad if his tone was any indication. “You’re a great kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ichigo bit out, raising his head to meet a Renji who froze, wide-eyed, as if surprised at being caught looking. “I hate it when you call me that.” Renji frowned, but didn’t say anything, which put a hot coal of dread in his gut.

“Is that why you’re stringing me along?” he croaked, head hanging, eyes flicking around the cracked stone floor. “Because I’m a kid to you? If that’s it, then say so, so I can-”

“No,” Renji grunted sharply, “Knock it off, Ichigo.”

“Then what?” he questioned rawly, staring Renji in the face, looking from eye to eye imploringly. “ _Why? Why won’t you- …”_ He exhaled helplessly as Renji covered his eyes with a hand and sighed, then rubbed his forehead, free hand hanging limply over his knee.

“Is this still because you think you’re too old for me?” Renji’s lack of response told everything. “How long are you gonna’ make me grow up?!” Ichigo demanded, voice echoing in the cave-like acoustics of the locker room.

Renji gave him a hard resigned look then. “You know… you really shouldn’t waste your young years just waiting to get older, when you could be meeting someone your own age.”

“Renji, _really?!_ ”

“I know, I know you already told me you don’t want to, but that doesn’t make it better.”

“Would you just answer the goddamn question?!”

Renji let his hand drop with a grimace, brow pulled down, but Ichigo didn’t back down, glaring back at him until he broke and sighed. “A man.” Ichigo’s shoulders dropped, but Renji went on, not giving a sign of budging. “That’s how old. Hatachi.”

Frustrated and at the end of his rope, Ichigo gaped for a moment and then choked out, sounding far too vulnerable and young, “You just hope that by then that I won’t…” He swallowed.

He knew that Renji thought this was a phase, that he was fickle and foolish enough to go through crushes like fads. He knew that Renji thought he would grow out of him. That's why Ichigo hated that he was dragging this out, that's why it _scared_ him, because Renji was doing it with the hope that Ichigo would meet somebody else before turning twenty.

“What if… you’ve changed your mind by then?” he mumbled distrustfully, voice cracking and betraying him.

“Hey…” Renji turned towards him, tossing one leg over the side of the bench so that he fully faced Ichigo, who turned his face away and scrubbed at his nose, sniffing. “I’ve got a loyal heart. ‘M patient.” He ducked his head to meet Ichigo’s tired and red eyes with an uncertain smile. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

Ichigo was coaxed into turning back towards him, head still hanging in disappointment. “… That seems like such a long time away,” he sighed miserably and looked at his hands where they rested in a heap in his lap. Renji’s were nearby, in loose fists, resting on his thighs.

“It’ll fly by,” he hummed fondly. Renji loomed close in his space, and Ichigo breathed a sigh of comfort, but let his nose twitch in irritation at the wiser older brother tone Renji had just put on. He couldn’t help but give a wry smile.

“Wow, you really _are_ an old man,” he teased, still mumbling a bit.

“Heh’, little shit,” Renji laughed, and they went quiet together. The smiles took a few moments to fade, and when they did, Ichigo pulled up one leg and rested his forehead on it, picking at his toes.

“Twenty,” he whispered. “Twenty ‘till I get to have sex,” he repeated, causing Renji to clear his throat sharply and shift around. “How on earth are you this patient,” Ichigo wondered frustratedly. It was so hard for him. How did Renji think that he could survive like two more years of this? He’d actually _had_ sex before on top of it, probably, so he knew what they were missing out on!

“I’m used ta’ waiting for impossible things for long periods of time,” Renji reminded flatly.

“Yeah, yeah, there you go again, bragging about being immortal,” Ichigo brushed off.

“Heh’, yeah okay,” Renji sighed, giving a kind of dreamy smile, like he thought Ichigo was the most precious cutest thing in the world. Ichigo stuck out his lip in a scowl.

“I don’t wanna’ wait that long,” he mumbled like a spoiled brat. “I…” He looked down and blushed, chin resting on his kneecap. “I… feel so much.”

Renji gave a small exhale of awe and ‘oh-god-I-could-just-eat-you,’ and put a thumb by Ichigo’s mouth, his hand brushing his face. Ichigo looked up warily at Renji’s smile.

“Until I can feel more okay about bein’ an undead perv, this is what has to happen.”

Ichigo snorted, causing Renji to give a gusty frustrated sigh. “Preying on the young? Taking advantage of a minor? Ring any bells?”

“You know, the age of consent where I come from is actually-”

“I don’t care, Ichigo, I don’t care.”

“Guh!!” Ichigo groaned, throwing his hands up. “You think I’m not in control of my mental faculties?! You think I can’t make informed decisions?!” He slapped a hand down onto his leg, sticking his chin into Renji’s face, causing him to draw back, affronted. “For god’s sake, you guys push alcohol on me every time I come here, but I guess _that_ rule doesn’t matter because it’s inconvenient!”

Renji narrowed his eyes, glancing around.

“Well your abstinence rule is inconveniencing my dick!”

“ _Shh!_ ” Renji panicked, swatting at him and looking around frantically. “Alright, I get it! Pipe down!”

“Hmph,” Ichigo pouted, and if he was proving that he was indeed immature, he didn’t give a fuck.

“You think this is easy for me?” Renji hissed, getting right back in his face. Ichigo narrowed his eyes, continuing to sulk. “Huh? You think it's easy for me to ignore you? You beggin' for me with your eyes every goddamn day?”

“I don’t do that,” he mumbled in embarrassment.

“Strutting around all cocksure, all- all-”

“All _what?_ ”

“All sexy!” Renji blurted. Ichigo leaned back a bit in surprise. Renji was getting closer, enough that he had a hand braced between them to better yell in his face. “Makes me so mad!” Ichigo’s mouth filled with saliva, and his thighs twitched. He glanced down and blushed. He was getting hard again.

“Makes me wanna-” Ichigo exhaled as Renji got closer, his bulging chest heaving. He could see Renji swallow, his throat bobbing, and Ichigo’s eyes widened, his nails digging into the bench behind him, placed there to keep him from falling back as he leaned further and further away to maintain the distance as Renji approached.

Renji made this noise in his chest that had the hair on Ichigo’s back standing up. He was so big, so wild- It was scary and thrilling. Renji’s never talked to him like that, never shown how he wanted him, and it spooked Ichigo. What’s he gotten into? Shock and excitement locked his muscles.

He was really hard again, and damn his curiosity, he can’t help but prompt Renji on before he decided he’d gone too far and withdrew. “Yeah?” he rasped, throat dry.

Renji panted in his ear, his breath feeling like steam against his face, and Ichigo shuddered as he growled, “Makes me want to get on top of you and _fuck you_ like an _animal.”_ An abortive sound escaped Ichigo’s throat, his breath cutting off.

“Make you mine, make you know that I-” Renji stopped suddenly, quivering, panting, pressing his face to Ichigo’s. Ichigo shook, turning into it, eyes slipping closed.

“Yeah?”

“How much I-” Renji swallowed again. “How important you are. To me.” Renji’s voice started to lose the lusty tone and grow disturbed, more lucid again. Ichigo’s eyelids fluttered open, his entire body shaking. “To my life.”

He took Ichigo’s hand in his, holding it with both of his, a tight grasp that didn’t let Ichigo’s sweat-slick palm slide out. “And that’s why,” Renji muttered, eyes dark and glittering, gazing into his. “It scares me … I fell pretty hard – sometimes I feel like I can’t wait another second.”

He ran his knuckles along Ichigo’s cheek. “But this is too important, and that’s how I’m patient even though it’s hard. It’s not easy.” He laughed a bit, “God, you don’t make it easy.” Ichigo swallowed. "C'mere," Renji murmured, his smile warm and exasperated.

Ichigo closed his eyes as Renji held him, bringing him against his chest and holding his head to his shoulder. He could feel Renji’s nose and eyelashes brushing his neck, his head nuzzling into Ichigo’s bare flesh. His ear is against Ichigo’s. Ichigo tried to relax, resting his head and letting his eyes close, but his heart was still racing, every bit of him tight and trembling.

“Shit, I went too far,” Renji muttered into his shoulder, sounding for all the world like he was kicking himself. Ichigo could feel Renji’s fingers curling into his back. “God, don’t let me have scared you-” He jolted, cutting off with a loud, "Ow!"

Ichigo yanked back and beat him across the top of his head, glaring. “Don’t even,” he snapped, then flopped back against Renji, “Idiot.” He pressed his eyes into Renji’s shoulder and held him.

“…!” Renji tensed a bit and cleared his throat, which jolted Ichigo’s head a bit, but he held on, his face blazing.

“Don’t say anything,” he mumbled in embarrassment, squeezing Renji around his stupidly big chest.

Renji didn’t, but he placed his arms around Ichigo too and his chin on Ichigo’s shoulder and held him and held him, and Ichigo didn’t feel so insecure and impatient anymore.


	9. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all waited patiently for the porn. Ichigo, you especially.

_Never know how much I love you, never know how much I care. When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that’s so hard to bear._

_. . ._

Ichigo woke up slowly in the late hours of the morning and yawned. Eyes still shut, he rolled over in the warm blankets, his bare thigh bumping into something firm but fleshy. Vaguely aware that he was in bed with something alive, which wasn't at all usual, Ichigo yawned again and cracked one eye open to investigate, seeing that his leg had met a spread-eagled limb.

His sleep-addled brain took a few moments to make sense of it, but soon connected the tattooed muscular quads to the rest of his boyfriend’s widely splayed and very _naked_ body, which rested not far away, tangled up with him and the blankets. Ichigo let his eye slip back closed with a small quirk of his lip. Haaaaaah, they’d finally had sex.

Well kind of.

They’d jerked each other off and rut on each other and made out like the horny teenager that Ichigo officially _wasn’t_ as of three days ago! Ichigo was finally twenty, and god damn, he’d thought the day would never come. And what a hell of a birthday present.

Ever since, they’d been all wrapped up in each other, and Ichigo was learning what he could about the ways of adulthood. He was an eager student, that’s for sure – and what else could be expected after starving for it for so long? They hadn’t even had full on sex yet, and Ichigo still has never felt so satisfied. He’s constantly relaxed and focused and just… just really chill. He doesn’t stress over anything anymore. There was something immensely gratifying about getting hard during the day around Renji and knowing that, no, actually, he didn’t have to just leave it, or take care of it himself. There was also the fact that Ichigo hadn’t really realized that orgasms could feel any or better or worse depending on the method – but yeah, pretty much anything Renji did to him felt literally twice as good as when he did it himself.

Plus, it all was the most wonderful fun.

Ichigo smiled lazily as he rolled over and put his face on Renji’s arm, throwing a leg over his tattooed belly. That was one thing he hadn’t expected, but enjoyed most: their activities didn’t take on a serious or desperate note to them. He sort of got why some people called it a romp now, because that totally fit. Ichigo had found himself laughing and smiling a lot as they rolled and tossed each other around and said a bunch of dumb shit; Renji was especially good at doing that part while he was pleasuring them. Really it was as much playing as it was sex. Last night they’d kissed wildly, half-wrestling and laughing as they fooled around – Renji’s strong fist locked around their erections and taking Ichigo to oblivion.

Really, they’ve spent the last few days being disgustingly lovey. Yesterday they’d stayed in bed well into the afternoon, Renji sprawled out on his back and watching with a smile as Ichigo tried and ate every chocolate from the box he’d gotten for his birthday – then he’d read _Journey to the West_ aloud and teasingly compared Renji to Monkey King and laughed until Renji had tackled him, which had been a perfect conduit into staying awake all night messing around.

Which was why they were getting such a late start today again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real meal, but it was hard to give a fuck when he was using them all up on Renji.

They dozed together for a while longer until Ichigo finally propped himself up on his elbow, wiped his eye, and looked Renji’s bare body over where he lay next to him on his back. Some of his hair had come loose from his braid, his mouth was ajar, and his stomach rose and fell with each breath.

Ichigo, feeling a bit mischievous, and since the whole day was free for them to mess around, squirmed over to Renji on his belly and grabbed him by the morning boner, placing a sucking kiss near the base and curiously watching as it bobbed backwards at the sudden stimulation.

Renji snorted and mumbled sleepily, before opening his eyes a few moments later and looking down at him. Ichigo leaned up to him for a slow kiss and they lounged together for a while, Renji’s naked leg over his equally naked hip. Renji put his head on Ichigo’s and closed his eyes again, breathing in to sigh, and then letting out a yawn. Ahh, it’s good to be twenty.

Ichigo had bullied Renji into taking the week off, and they’d used it well thus far.

Even after all the grief they’ve gone through in waiting, even now after Ichigo was twenty, Renji was dragging it out a little, still delaying the sex after all of that. His excuse was that he was simply enjoying Ichigo – _savoring_ him – and that this was the time to learn each other and what they both like, y’know, exploratory stuff, since Ichigo hadn’t done anything of the sort with anyone else, which he can’t exactly argue with, because it’s true.

Ichigo can’t really complain exactly, because in holding off on going all the way, Renji hadn’t left him high and dry – no way. He’d shown Ichigo other, really enjoyable things. No, he definitely can’t complain. He’s one content guy.

Ichigo snuggled his head back against Renji’s and smiled when Renji purred at the way their morning erections rubbed together quite nicely. After a few rather rank, but still good kisses, Renji rolled on top of him with a rumbling hum, suckling down his neck and pressing his hips down hard against Ichigo’s, shifting them from side to side in a slow teasing grind.

“Haaaah,” Ichigo sighed happily, smiling at the low chuckle coming from somewhere under his jaw, the entire area hot with saliva and then fogged with breath that cooled the wet areas and steamed the dry.

Nah, he couldn’t ask for anything else; he's good just like this.

. . .

Later that day, they met Rukia when she saw them by chance in the street after they’d ventured out of the house for food. She gave the token amount of shit, because nobody’d seen them since the party and were obviously getting busy – which they couldn’t fault, because it was fucking true. Renji hadn’t exactly been subtle. For god’s sake, he’d put up a threatening ‘do not disturb’ message on his door and more posted a few yards down in the hallway in each direction. Ichigo was pretty sure the entirety of Squad Six – and who knew how many others – knew that they were going at it like crazy.

They’ve gotten a bunch of teasing, but it wasn't as unbearable as the teasing had been before when everyone had known they _weren’t_ doing it – because then Ichigo’d had to suffer through the humiliation _and_ the blueballs. Comments about them getting laid? Those were easy to brush off. Ichigo doesn’t give a _shit_. He was chill as fuck.

Rukia’s a different story. His chill kind of fucks off around her. Ichigo has kind of dreaded talking to her actually, because he knew she was going to tease, and she could always get to him. He doesn’t know how she does it - he’d tried to move past it, but it was something he hadn’t grown out of. For some weird reason, the thought of the knowing and dirty smile she’d undoubtedly employ made Ichigo’s every inch of flesh stand on pins and needles and his ears literally turn almost _red_ , not pink. It’s like those stupid pretty eyes of hers saw into his heart of hearts and sweetly whispered, ‘you nasty little freak, you.’

When they’d noticed her while they were out getting some eats, Renji had called out to her before Ichigo could stop him, and of course, she’d approached happily. He tried to keep it under control. She’s like a shark. If she senses that he’s weak – and he fucking is, it’s oozing off of him like blood in open water – she’ll strike.

Renji didn’t seem bothered, which would be really fucking irritating otherwise, but Ichigo had bigger fish to fry – literally. He was fucking starving.

After giving them the token amount of shit for not showing their faces for however many days it’s been – three, Ichigo thinks. Yeah, three – she mentioned that Ichigo was glowing and Renji looked more relaxed than she’d seen him in ages. Then she did this fucking eyebrow raise and Ichigo’s ears did the red thing.

Renji seemed to make it a point to look particularly mellow as if to prove Rukia right – which, okay, that did fucking irritate Ichigo. He had his head held up with a kind of cocky proud gleam in his eye, and all the dormant sleepy power of a lazy tiger flicking its tail around.

“Ah quiet,” Ichigo griped, and tried to act natural. He’d come of age. Everyone knew he’d been waiting for this, so it should be no big deal that they’d disappeared for a couple of days to… you know, get acquainted.

“We’ve been spending some quality time.” He was pretty satisfied with how blasé that came out.

“Top quality,” Renji drawled, his mouth stretching in a large smirk that had Ichigo narrowing his eyes. Rukia beat him to responding to that particular remark, as she burst out in an almost shocked laugh.

“Renji, you dog!” She swatted him on the arm in a fond, congratulatory, you-rascal-you fashion. Ichigo took a startled step back, scandalized, and immediately scowled to try to fight down the blush that viciously invaded his cheeks. They were all traitors. Every fucking one of them.

Renji laughed lowly, saying nothing to deny it, merely widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest – he looked fucking pleased with himself. Ichigo gave him the evil eye and then shook his head with a huff.

“You’re such a dick,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Renji grumbled, eyes snapping to him.

“When are you staying ‘till, Ichigo?” Rukia cut in, leaving Renji disgruntled and glaring at Ichigo, as if to say that this wasn’t over.

“You tryin’a’ get ridda’ me?” Ichigo sassed, ignoring his boyfriend’s sulking.

“Excuse you, it’s not my fault your schedule is completely sporadic.”

Ichigo rolled one shoulder, at which she raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I’ll be here ‘till the end of the month at least.”

“Yeah,” Renji hummed with a shit-eating grin, and yep, here it comes. “Our honeymoon ain’t over yet.”

“I don’t know you anymore.”

“Renji, you’re such a lech,” Rukia snorted.

Shameless, Renji raised his eyebrows, eyes shut, and with arms raised in a stretch, said, “Hey, everyone’s given me hell for bein’ a lech for like three years now when I wasn’t doin’ _shit_. I think I deserve a break.” Ichigo gave him a look. He still hadn’t heard anybody say anything like that about Renji – but maybe they only said it when he was out of earshot. It’d be just like Renji to not say anything about it to him.

“Point noted.” Rukia looked back to him, which had Ichigo standing up imperceptibly straighter. She gave him a fond smile, tilting her head like she did when she got all gooey – ‘Ichigo, you’ve gotten so tall – you look so grown up.’ It was kind of embarrassing in a nice warm sort of way. “So what are your plans now then? I know you took the week off.”

“Yeah, got more important things than work this week.” Renji smiled in an entirely too skeevy way and Ichigo shifted away, honestly suspicious that he might reach out and swat him – he hasn’t forgotten that one time outside the bathhouse! His right buttcheek has never been the same since!

Rukia opened her mouth, grinning, her eyes boggling like Renji was amazing her in a thousand amusing ways today.  

“Pff’, Important things,” Ichigo muttered. “For one thing, Byakuya is _not_ happy with me right now.” That shut Renji up – other than his sotto voce cursing. At least it wiped the look off his face.

Rukia rounded on Renji with her finger pointed out righteously, who looked sufficiently cowed at her exclamation of, “You shouldn’t inconvenience Nii-sama!”

“Yeah, Renji, don’t inconvenience Nii-sama.”

Sent into a frenzy of rage by his snide mockery, Renji made as if to throttle him, bursting out with, “You’re the one who-! I didn’t-!”

Ichigo leaned back from his red and sputtering face. “Don’t spit on me.”

“You!” he howled. “I worked overtime to make sure that-”

“Well if you weren’t so lazy normally then he probably just-”

“ _Lazy?!”_ Renji hollered, puffing up his chest, to which Ichigo gave him a deadpan glare and pointedly dug his pinkie around in his ear, which just served to tick him off even more. “I work my ass off to impress that guy and you have the balls ta’ call _me_ lazy when all you ever do around here is slack?! I oughta’-”

“I’ll tell you what you oughta’.”

“ _You little-“_

“Oh, you guys!” Rukia sang, and because they were already in each other’s faces, it wasn’t hard for her to hug them both around the waists, since that was about as high up as she could grab if they didn’t bend down to accept the embrace. She pulled them together, squeezing herself between them with her bony arms, and they both calmed as they peered down at her. Renji, immediately on board with Rukia-hugs as always, just laughed a little, previous ire forgotten as he pet her on the hair.

“Rukia!” Ichigo complained, turning red and half-heartedly tugging at her and reeling away from Renji’s big stupid face.

She made another squealy noise as if to emphasize how cute they were and how much she loved them, and Renji laughed some more, totally going with it – and Ichigo, well he had many issues.

“Rukia!” he howled, his entire face bright pink as he yanked away from them and flung an arm in the direction of the open street where they’d first seen her. “ _Go!_ ”

Renji, exponentially more chill, hummed amusedly, “We’re kind of on a date right now, Rukia.” Yeah, food-date. Date with lots and lots of food and no embarrassing yet secretly enjoyable Rukia-hugs that definitely didn’t touch a special tender part of Ichigo’s heart- Nope, not.

“Maa, maa, so rude,” Rukia declared in that deep authoritative disapproving tone she had about her, waving a hand back and forth. Ichigo grumbled, cheeks still flushed. It’s so annoying when she talks so formally about ridiculous stuff like that. “I have things to do anyway that don’t involve you two!” She pointed at them both, Renji held in the sort of rapture one is trapped by when being told a hilarious joke and lingering on the verge of laughter but desperately holding it back so as to hear the entire joke, in order to burst out hysterically in full context. Ichigo just bit his tongue and tried not to think about how the humiliation of her teasing hadn’t been as bad as he’d anticipated.

No. It was much much worse.

“Fine, finish your date!” she urged, “Go forth and multiply!”

“ _RUKIA!”_

Renji just cackled and crossed his arms proudly on his chest. Ichigo groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, flinging his upper body backwards as if to better send his woes to the sky. “God! _Leave_ now, _okay?!”_

She trotted away a bit and waved above her head at them. “I’ll send a butterfly to check on you if you don’t show your faces again by Monday!”

“ _You don’t have to yell that to the entire street!”_

“Bye Rukia.”

Ichigo huffed and started off in the direction of the fish market they’d been heading towards in the first place, Renji following a moment after. “I love Rukia,” Renji snickered.

Ichigo, shoulders easing down from around his ears, had to smile a bit. Yeah, he did too.

. . .

If Ichigo had to choose a downside about his first week being twenty – and it was hard to do, because, y’know, there were so, _so_ many upsides – it’d have to be the weather. That’s what he got for being born in the dead middle of July, because it was muggy as hell.

So after he and Renji had eaten and lazed around at a yakiniku stand for a good hour and chatted, Renji finally pushed back his damp bandannas and rubbed at his forehead. “Ah,” he mumbled with a smirk as sweat ran down into his eyes, “Kinda’ hot out here.” Ichigo nodded, because answering would take too much effort. He’d long since tugged on the collar of his yukata, leaving the bottom tucked in, but letting the front hang open at the chest.

“Wanna’ head back for some cooldown?”

“Sure,” he panted.

Once back in Renji’s quarters, they bummed around for a while – Ichigo went off to wash his face and then meditate, because it would take up the least amount of energy and allow an escape from the heat. Renji didn’t try to bug him, but when he started exercising nearby, Ichigo was drawn out of his trance and asked what the fuck he thought he was doing, to which he replied that if it was already hot as balls, he was gonna’ sweat even if he wasn’t doing anything, so he might as well work out.

Ichigo just told him to sweat quieter.

He didn’t know how long he wandered around and talked with Zangetsu, but the next time he was dragged back to awareness it was to the sound of Renji’s heavy panting, his breath rasping in his chest. Privately rolling his eyes and twisting at the waist from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, he glanced behind him to see Renji doing one-armed push-ups, absolutely dripping with sweat.

Renji must’ve heard him make some sort of noise, because he looked up and noticed him watching. “You back?” he panted, pushing himself up and settling on his rear, legs in front of him. “Yo, spot me.”

Normally Ichigo would’ve snapped that he wasn’t gonna’ fucking spot him when he was that gross, or just refused on principle, because he was a little shit like that – but as Renji reeled up from his push-ups, his chest and stomach heaving, Ichigo’s words got lost at the sight of his tattoos glistening, his skin gleaming like it had been laved with body-oil. In lieu of replying, Ichigo crawled towards him and held Renji’s feet.

Grunting his satisfaction, Renji interlocked his fingers behind his head and started doing sit-ups. Ichigo tried to let his mind wander, he tried to be bored, but his eyes kept crawling back, and soon all he could focus on were the small deep grunts of exertion coming out of Renji and the sight of sweat dribbling through the crevices of his torso as it contracted and relaxed. The way his tattoos rippled was almost mesmerizing.

Ichigo swallowed and breathed through his mouth to try and combat the overwhelming sense of dread rising through him. He gripped Renji’s feet a little tighter, feeling them press up against his palms slightly every time Renji drove his shoulders up towards his knees. Perspiration gathered and ran down Renji’s flesh in little streams, his chest contorting and bulging, and Ichigo started to feel hot all over. Shit, this was turning him on.

Shifting on the floor slightly, knees apart, Ichigo hunched his shoulders and tried to fight the inevitable swelling in his groin. It was no use though; his breaths began to match Renji’s, heavy and harsh, his forehead flushed from a mixture of the heat of the atmosphere and that of his desire. Renji met his eyes, his gaze piercing into him with a dark fierce glint that told him he knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn’t smirk as Ichigo expected him to, but he did slowly run his tongue over lips, collecting the sweat that had gathered there. Biting his lip, he let his eyes flick over Ichigo’s body, which sent another flush of heat through him.

Ichigo wanted to touch him so badly – watching his body curl up and relax rhythmically like that sent his mind straight to the gutter. He knew that Renji could tell what he was thinking too, and might’ve been waiting for him to snap and pounce on him, seeing how mad he could drive him before he burst. It wasn’t that Ichigo was hesitant to initiate, just that in some sort of masochistic torturous move, as badly as he wanted to touch, kiss, grab, smear his hands in all of that moisture and use it to let his palms glide over Renji’s firm flesh, he didn’t want to stop watching Renji’s body move like that, his muscles repeatedly flexing in a sort of viciously gorgeous coordinated wave motion. He didn’t think he could take it a second longer, and yet didn’t think he could bear to interrupt it either.

At this point they were both hard to the extent that there was no hiding it – seeing as Ichigo was positioned with a clear view between Renji’s legs and Ichigo had his own knees spread wide apart. Renji conspicuously glanced from the bulge up to Ichigo’s face, chewing on his lip a little bit more, his movements stalling somewhat. Ichigo swallowed and licked his lips, lowering his head even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about, for fuck’s sake, it was a miracle Renji could actually look at him over his own boner when his back was flat on the floor.

His muscles beginning to quiver and tremble from strain, Renji panted and fell back onto his elbows, his gaze smoldering and boring into Ichigo, enough that he couldn’t pull his eyes away if he tried. Leaning back, his chest heaving and wet, Renji let his arms open, held his hands out, and panted, “Come to me,” and Ichigo, not needing to be told twice, climbed forward and into his embrace. He eagerly bumped his hips against Renji’s rear and pressed their arousals together, Renji’s thighs hooking over his own. With no more than a moment to gasp and smile, Ichigo breathlessly kissed him, his arms wrapping around Renji’s slick torso as easily as Renji’s damp hands dug through his hair.

Their chests pressed together and the thin fabric of Ichigo’s casual yukata soaked through almost immediately, Renji’s perspiration sticking them together. They were messy and disgusting and out of breath, and Ichigo didn’t think he'd ever been happier. Renji hummed lowly onto his mouth as Ichigo tentatively curled his lower back, grinding their erections together in as coordinated a move as his still limited skills allowed.

Ichigo gasped and froze as Renji suddenly grabbed him on the bottom, both sweaty palms molding against his rear, the damp heat seeping through his clothes. With a growl, taking advantage of Ichigo’s breathless surprise, Renji hefted himself up and carefully flipped Ichigo back, caging him in his arms so that he wouldn’t bump too roughly on the floor. Ichigo panted and swallowed as Renji held him, trying not to show on his face the thrill of nerves that had suddenly shot through him. He really shouldn’t get so excited over such a small thing as Renji grabbing his ass, but they haven’t really done anything like that just yet – in fact, Ichigo was starting to suspect that Renji was purposefully avoiding it – and it had surprised him.

Renji pushed Ichigo’s arms up and dragged his clothes open at the collar, and Ichigo fumbled as he fought his arms out of the sleeves. Renji licked his lips as he shoved Ichigo’s arms back up, greedily running his hands down the soft flesh of the underside, his chest, his thumbs pausing to tweak his nipples. Ichigo let out a harsh breath and quickly bit his lip to cut it off – they’ve messed around a bunch by now, but their activities hadn’t really diverted much from jerking each other off or grinding on each other until orgasming. Renji’s excuse had been that he had to warm Ichigo up to sex, get him used to different things, don’t rush, Ichigo, no need to rush-  It looked like Renji thought he’d been sufficiently warmed to the point that he was starting to push and test the boundaries a little more.

Renji gave him a harsh deep kiss, his tongue stealing every last bit of spare breath Ichigo had had left in his lungs. Ichigo’s head fell back limply, hitting the floor with a dull clunk, and his eyes slid closed as Renji caressed and sucked on his tongue salaciously, his breath growling deep in his throat. Pulling back with a gasp of relish one makes after taking a long draft of liquor, Renji grinned, his eyes sparkling with wicked amusement and mischief, and Ichigo, helpless and _hopelessly_ right where Renji wanted him, let out a stuttered moan as Renji slid his body heavily down him, purposefully letting his weight drag across Ichigo’s heated flesh and press against his erection. His hands were tightly gripped around Ichigo’s biceps, squeezing them and holding them in place above his head. Keeping his eyes up on Ichigo’s face as he went, Renji ran his lips down Ichigo’s torso and hummed against his bellybutton, “I’m gonna’ suck you off, Ichigo.”

Ichigo couldn’t fucking help it – his eyes boggled and he let out this choked moan of disbelief. He squirmed, his breath growing fast and excited, his erection aching and straining, but he had the presence of mind to nod, his eyes glued to Renji’s face as it moved lower and lower down. Oh wow, Renji was going to-

Renji, seeming to approve of his eager and painfully young reaction, licked his lips and let his hands skim down Ichigo’s undulating belly, his thumbs hooking into the tie of his yukata and pulling on it. “I’m gonna’ make you cum with your dick in my mouth,” he said lewdly, his mouth mere inches from Ichigo’s straining hips.

“Yeah,” Ichigo gasped, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, his entire body paralyzed and electrified with the simultaneous and volatile mixture of humiliation and excitement Renji’s words ignited within him. The mental imagery of it was enough to get Ichigo’s heart racing, his mouth open and his breath drawn tight as Renji pressed his face down into the juncture of where his groin met his thigh.

“I’m gonna’ take you ta’ heaven,” he rumbled, tone so low and dark that Ichigo took in the words on an almost subsonic level, reading them through the way they rattled his bones rather than pierced the air.

“Oh god,” Ichigo panted, lifting his head slightly, although he didn’t need to with the way Renji’s deep voice vibrated straight through him, the heat of his breath seeping through his clothes and onto his throbbing erection serving to throw him into a sort of mind-numbing panic. Oh god, Renji’s mouth was on his dick-

Ichigo leaned up on his elbows, shaking all over with anticipation as Renji undressed him and pulled his hard penis out. Ichigo bit his lip and looked away – he’s not embarrassed, it’s just… it’s different during the daytime… Plus, Renji hasn’t looked at him so closely like that before and it made him sort of self-conscious, not that some nervous jitters were going to get in the way of- Ichigo held his breath when Renji grinned with an almost viciously perverse glint in his eye and opened his mouth. Oh fuck-

Holding absolutely still, not even breathing, Ichigo watched, _agonized_ as Renji gripped his cock around the base and moved it towards his lips. A stuttered gasp broke free and Ichigo’s stomach clenched, his hands scrambling to try and grip the tatami mats beneath him when Renji pressed the head of his cock against the flat of his tongue- oh- 

_Don’t cum, Kurosaki – don’t cum, don’t cum, oh fuck, don’t, don’t, don’t-don’t-_

Renji paused for a moment to look up at him and then grinned more, laving his tongue back and forth along the back of his cock, not breaking eye contact so as to fully appreciate Ichigo’s expression of almost horrified surprise: the quivering of his brow, his locked jaw, his eyes slowly starting to glaze, and of course, his flushed pink complexion.

Pausing to give him one last amused smirk – as if he hadn’t expected Ichigo to react quite so much – Renji closed his mouth around the head of his erection and sucked him down, at which point Ichigo lost all semblance of calm. “Oh,” he exhaled roughly, dropping back, his muscles tensed to the point that they trembled and twitched. “Oh wow,” he moaned breathily, straining to lift his head and watch as his erection disappeared within Renji’s mouth with each bob of his head. Renji hummed salaciously, slurping with relish, his eyes burning into Ichigo’s.

Ichigo bit his lip and clenched his brow, his head tossed to one side, his hand gripping Renji’s free one. Oh shit, all his wildest imaginations hadn’t compared to how- how- It was so hot and wet, the perfect amount of pressure, sending pleasure rocketing through him in sharp jolts and lingering like the warmth of liquor. “Shit,” he gasped as Renji pulled back and smacked his dick against his tongue with a hungry groan, a string of his precum and his own saliva connecting his lips and the flushed head of Ichigo’s cock together.

“Hmmm,” Renji growled, stroking his fist along Ichigo’s shaft for a few pumps, before taking him back in with a zealous groan. Ichigo moaned breathlessly. Shit, Renji really seemed to enjoy it, didn’t he- Or maybe it was just because of the response he was getting that made it worthwhile-

Ichigo gasped and whined, throwing an arm over his face when Renji’s heated gaze and the lewd picture before him became too much. He held Renji’s hand so tight that he was sure his nails were digging into his palm. Renji’s grip on his cock was so firm and strong, and the suction of his powerful mouth and the movements of his tongue were almost overwhelming.

What little restraint Ichigo had held onto lasted about two seconds longer, when Renji pulled back to the tip and swallowed around it, and without giving Ichigo a moment to recover, sucked him back in, jacking him off up into the hot confines of his mouth. Ichigo curled up, his mouth open in a silent scream that couldn’t escape because his core had tightened up too much. Renji still didn’t stop, laughing lowly and teasing him with his tongue, then sucked on him with ruthless force. Ichigo did shout then, a stuttered cry ripping from his throat as he reeled up towards Renji and pulled his legs in, his thighs bouncing in around Renji’s ears. Renji, merciless, merely grabbed him around the legs with an eager growl and nuzzled his nose down against Ichigo’s stomach.

Ichigo, panting and shaking like a baby, tried to push his sweaty hair back from his forehead and take a breather, but Renji didn’t let up – and as he looked up to Ichigo with a heady hum, Ichigo’s dick still down his throat, and quirked the corner of his mouth with a mischievous smile as if to tease that he was already so excited this soon, Ichigo thought bleakly, ' _Fuck, I've created a monster.'_

He grabbed Renji wherever he could reach and tried to breathe. The worst part is that he’d almost cum like five times already, but Renji seemed to be able to sense when he was on the verge – maybe he could feel his pulse quicken on his tongue, or his cock stiffen slightly with a final rush of blood just when he was _just about to_ – because he’d always slow or change rhythm at just the right moment that Ichigo could hang on, so Renji would be able to drag this out longer, could torture him further. Renji lounged on top of him, arms spread to rest his elbows on the floor on either side of him, Ichigo’s legs wrapped around his back, and Ichigo stared down at him and trembled, contemplating life and death.

Eventually, with each of his moans, Ichigo could see the hairs raise on Renji’s arms, the heavy pull to his eyelids, the steamy thick look to his gaze. At last Renji began to breathe more heavily, as though winded, and Ichigo pet him on the head, clumsily dragging a hand over his damp hair. He’s so- so good, he’s such a good-

He gasped and panted as Renji shifted, and without pulling back, maneuvered himself around to flop on his side, his legs near Ichigo’s shoulder, the heavy outline of his cock pulling the fabric of his fundoshi tight to bursting. Ichigo let his head fall to the side, every inch of skin feeling sweaty and sticky, and watched as Renji gripped his dick through his clothes with his free hand, palming and massaging the thick needy bulge. With one last insistent suck, Renji pulled his mouth free of Ichigo’s erection with a hungry wet gasp, his breath growling in his chest and piercing the air.

Ichigo swallowed and reached out with his hand, helping Renji undo his sash and open his yukata where it had lingered around his waist. With a bit of difficulty, he tugged the tightly tied fundoshi out enough to allow Renji to pull out his erection and stroke it a bit – when he did, this thick musty sweaty scent escaped, the heat of it seeping over to Ichigo’s face. Sucking insistently on Ichigo’s cock, Renji took his hand and guided it to his thick arousal and held it there. Ichigo felt so hot all over that he thought he might pass out, and swallowed hard at the feeling of Renji’s cock under his hand. Renji's guiding fingers fell away once Ichigo tentatively gripped it and brought it closer for inspection. He hadn’t really held it like this yet, and definitely hadn’t gotten this close of a look.

Panting, he spit in his hand and stroked Renji’s cock with a heavy pressure, watching with an almost morbid fascination as the tattoos there darkened as he spread his saliva over them. Renji’s breath sighed through his nose, and he pulled back for a moment to crack a relieved and encouraging grin before going back to sucking him off.

Ichigo tried his best, he really did, but he grew distracted easily, because the ecstasy of Renji’s harsh movements was really, wow- holy wow-

He tried to turn a little bit, uncertainly maneuvering his face towards Renji’s dick with a bravery and absence of nerves entirely brought on by the delirium of pleasure. Renji accommodated him – as if having been waiting for him to attempt such a thing – moving his head away from Ichigo's hips so that Ichigo could roll on his right side. Once he did, he gripped Ichigo’s exposed ass greedily and sucked him down with a contented groan. Ichigo tried to focus, but he couldn’t so well, his vision swimming.

Spitting again, he gave Renji’s cock a few firm pulls, swirling his hand around it from base to tip, letting his fist close around the head the way he liked to do to himself. Once he was feeling brave enough, he tried to copy Renji some – he stuck his tongue out and licked a bit at the dark wet head of Renji’s cock, and then sucked on it with whatever curiosity that could penetrate through the fog of approaching orgasm. The taste was that of salty sweat, and Ichigo sucked at the stiff feverish flesh a bit more, squeezing with his hand while he ran his tongue against it.

Renji’s belly moved with heavy breaths just on his periphery, the slithering motions of his tattoos undulating becoming absolutely hypnotic. Ichigo released the base of Renji’s dick to play with the patch of sweaty hair just to the left, rubbing and scratching his thumb through it, then pinching and twisting it between his fingers, satisfied when Renji squirmed and let out an irregular breath or two in a grunt and then sucked on him with renewed vigor, the ridges on the roof of his mouth rubbing against the head of his cock just right. Ichigo tensed, curling his hips towards Renji’s face and carefully licked on the side of Renji’s erection, then sucked on the head some more without letting his teeth touch – he doesn’t know how hard is too hard, so he just avoided it altogether. Not able to take as much into his mouth as he’d expected, he settled for pumping most of it in his fist and hoping that was a skill that would come with time, because he didn’t think he could do what Renji was doing; despite their size difference, Ichigo was still impressed that Renji could do that without choking.

Ichigo figured he gave an okay handjob, so he did his best, but he didn’t really know what else to do but suck on it like candy, or a straw. It was sort of like what Renji was doing, but with less… less confidence.

Renji pulled back for a second, and with a voice that was significantly weaker and raspier than Ichigo had expected, told him, “I like a little bit a’ teeth – really go at it.” Ichigo nodded breathlessly, and though he could see Renji looking at him from between their bodies, he didn’t make eye contact, because it’s weird to talk with a dick right by your face. “Don’t worry,” Renji licked his lips and panted, “You don’t have to go far down, just do it hard.”

“Got it,” he panted back, and sufficiently reassured, gave it another try. He gripped hard with his fist and propped himself up on his other elbow, sucking part of Renji's cock into his mouth with as much muscle as he had, because slow and uncoordinated as he was, he was pretty strong. He pulled back every few slurps to swallow around the head to release the pressure the constant sucking created in his mouth. Luckily he was turned on enough that he wasn’t a shaking ball of nerves and his mouth wasn’t dry; in fact, his chin was wet with excess saliva. It was just really hard to keep a rhythm when Renji was doing what he was doing- If Ichigo had thought before on his birthday that masturbating was pathetic compared to what Renji could do to him, that he’d been a fool to think that cumming always felt the same, then now- oh god, how the world has opened up before him. This blew even that birthday sex away.

As if sensing the bad pun, Renji hummed his enjoyment and pulled back to grin and pant encouragingly, “Yeah, doin’ good.”

Ichigo, unbelievably satisfied to hear that, continued, and after catching on to the little grunts Renji let slip every time his teeth dragged along his shaft, he curiously bit, just a little, sucking hard. Renji squirmed, his breath hissing through his nose and a rumbling groan following like thunder after lightning. Ichigo smiled a little, sweat dripping down into his eyes, and started to catch on to why Renji had seemed to enjoy this so much. He liked to feel Renji's body quiver beneath his hands, his great muscular legs shaking helplessly, he liked to hear Renji's deep raspy voice break - it made him feel incredibly powerful.

Ichigo, growing a bit more confident, tried to continue, but his beginner technique kind of fell off as Renji really went all out on him then, using the full force of his skill without holding back or leaving Ichigo just on the edge of orgasm as he had before. Ichigo pulled off of Renji’s dick for fear that he might bite down when it finally hit – he could feel it building, like the shoreline receding drastically in order to form the tsunami.

Even feeling it coming, it caught him unawares. Harsh, electrifying, Ichigo tensed and writhed, and he didn’t know what kind of sound he made, maybe nothing at all – he’d never know, because his hearing had winked out, every nerve ending fried and tingling as Renji finished him off.

When the last few pulses of mind-numbingly harsh pleasure abated and Ichigo could feel Renji’s wet lips running over the head of his cock again, he _did_ hear himself, a strangled cry loosing from deep within him as he jerked and hurled himself onto his back. Renji didn't let him escape, rolling over him and holding his hip down with one hand, the other directing his cock back into his mouth, and despite the gentle pressure, Ichigo slapped the floor and let a sob free as Renji sucked him clean.

When Renji finally pulled back, Ichigo blinked through the haze and swallowed, panting. Renji looked pretty damn proud of himself, gazing down at Ichigo lying there, a fucking sweaty gasping mess. He gave Ichigo a grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with his fist, and Ichigo tried to smile back through his heavy breaths, his eyes slipping shut, his legs apart to let his feverish and aching cock cool in the muggy air.

At the searching and appreciative hand stroking over his damp sticky chest, Ichigo opened his eyes again and tiredly reached out to try and finish Renji off, propping himself up with what felt like the effort of rolling a boulder up a hill in order to bring Renji’s cock to his mouth.

"Naw, don't, baby, just lay down. Yeah, just like that, you don't gotta' do anything, sweetheart," Renji muttered, nudging his lips away with a warm palm to his cheek, guiding him back down to the floor. "Just lay back." Ichigo was so tired, he couldn't even protest, couldn't even  _scowl_ at the names.

"I'm not your baby," he panted weakly, but Renji just grinned and knelt at his side, stroking himself in one hand and touching Ichigo’s face with the other. Ichigo watched as Renji clenched his jaw and then let his breath out through a tight ‘o’ of his lips.

Tentatively running his hand along Ichigo’s face, Renji gently fit his thumb inside the corner of Ichigo’s mouth and told him softly to bite, just a little, his chest inflating with each fevered breath. Ichigo kind of chewed on his finger, setting it between his teeth and wiggling it around, humming as Renji stroked his cock with an open but silent mouth and gazed down at Ichigo’s face with wide eyes that were almost pained with the amount of desire there.

Ichigo sucked at his thumb, laving his tongue along the pad of it and chewing on his knuckle as he reached up to run a hand along Renji’s swelling stomach. Renji’s movements grew more desperate, his breath ragged, the muscles of his arm and chest bulging out with his efforts. Ichigo licked his lips, meeting Renji's gaze in time to see his pupils glaze and dilate as he finally stuttered to a halt, his cum trapped beneath the tight grip of his fist, but quickly seeping out through the gaps in his fingers to roll down his wrist. Stroking himself a bit more, a few more weak spurts of ejaculate dripped onto Ichigo’s chest, warm and viscous. Giving a couple pulls to his cock to relish the aftershocks, Renji let out a long sigh of release, having been quiet throughout the entirety of his orgasm but for a breathy grunt or two. Despite that, he was left quite winded, as if he’d run a long ways and finally been allowed to collapse on the ground, exhausted.

With another long whoosh of breath through puffed cheeks, Renji let his hands come away as he leaned down to Ichigo for a kiss, his lips wet from being bitten and sucked. He hummed onto Ichigo’s mouth, a long satisfied warm thing that made Ichigo’s heart buzz and his lips curve in a smile.

He didn’t know how they did it, but they moved to the bed somehow, and rested, practically plastered together from still cooling sweat. Renji had put his arms behind his head and let his eyes drift shut, a lazy smile playing along his lips as he continued to employ that satisfied hum, his legs thrown wide. Ichigo didn’t know how he was lying at the moment, as his senses are still recovering – his proprioception wasn’t back up to par yet. He was weak and limp all over, every bit of him pleasantly warm as muscles are after a long massage.

As he slowly began to come back to earth, his heart calming, he wiggled his feet experimentally to test that his legs were still there. From the way everything from the lower back down seemed completely useless, he couldn’t be sure. His face was somewhere against Renji’s side. One eye was closed where it rested on Renji’s flesh, and his head rocked with each of Renji’s breaths.

Fuck, he felt like a cooked noodle.

“Ya’ know?” He raised a hand, floppy and uncoordinated and deadened as though he’d slept on it weird and couldn’t move it right yet due to lack of blood flow. “You _are_ a monster,” he blurted, his tongue all rubbery.

Renji picked his head up a bit to look at him, and irrationally, Ichigo felt a heavy swell of affection for him because his hair was halfway down, some of it stupidly sticking to his forehead, the rest a crazy mess, and at the moment, he doesn’t think he’s loved anything more than Renji and his wild hair and his bright contented eyes and his dopey sweet face and the crazy, crazy mess he’s made of him. “Huh?”

“You really are,” he slurred, rolling away from Renji now that he felt strong enough to do so. He flopped onto his front in Renji’s bed, wiggling his hips a bit to find a soft spot where he could lay his weight down without his still sensitive penis hurting. He rubbed his head against the blankets, and fuck, maybe it’s the post-orgasm haze, but even the sheets smell sexy right now, whatever cheap cologne Renji used seeping into Ichigo’s lungs with each deep draught of breath.

“… I’m not guilty about that stuff anymore, Ichigo,” Renji muttered somewhat uncertainly, his brow creasing as he looked to the side for the instant it took him whenever there was an ounce of lie in his words.

“No, I mean fer’ keeping that from me for two years,” Ichigo clarified, picking his head off the bed and sticking his floppy dead hand up again, waving it a bit. “Fahh-” he panted, “Fuck you.” His arm dropped down. “You evil- you evil guy, you.”

Renji looked at him for a minute, what seemed like confusion replacing his unease. Then suddenly he smirked and snorted, and not having enough breath left for a laugh, his chest merely shook as he slapped a hand around over his mouth and eyes, his grin hysterical. Looking at Ichigo again for a second, he burst back out into breathy laughter. Ichigo smiled and let his eye close, turning his face into the blankets. Renji finally sighed, and with amusement not fully eradicated from his tone, he tried to say seriously, “Get in the shower, Ichigo, you’re nasty.”

“You’re the one who got spunk on my belly,” Ichigo mumbled, not too hot on the idea of moving yet.

“Aw, get goin’,” Renji muttered, nudging him onto his back with his foot and grabbing him by the upper arm to drag him up. Ichigo gave a petulant scowl, but went, urged on further when Renji gave him a final shove forward.

The hot water of the shower further relaxing his already limp muscles, Ichigo didn’t know how much longer he could stand up. His legs felt so wobbly that he was surprised they’d gotten him this far. He leaned against the cool tiles of the wall for the few moments it took Renji to get to the bathroom himself and join him, which was good, because if there was something he _wasn’t_ going to do, it was collapse on the floor with Renji there to see it. If Renji had to hold him up or carry him to bed, he’d never live that shit down. Dragging him to fight Yhwach was a one time thing.

Sighing contentedly but for his trembling legs, Ichigo let his head lean forward into the hot spray, wetting his sweat-stiff hair and his pink face. His skin all felt itchy and sticky from dried sweat, and the water drilling into his tired muscles felt like heaven.

Ichigo had glanced up when Renji came into the bathroom, but let his eyes shut again in exhaustion soon after, leaning a forearm against the wall of the shower and letting the water hit the back of his neck.

Having finished brushing his hair or throwing out their dirty clothes or whatever he’d been doing, Renji stepped into the shower behind him and ran his hands around on Ichigo’s back, finally settling them at his hips, his thumbs pressing in above the swell of his ass. Ichigo straightened up when Renji leaned forward against him and pressed his muscular chest against his spine, slick with water, and rested his chin on his shoulder. Ichigo let his head hang forward and watched as the water dribbled through his hair, then closed his eyes as he felt Renji giving his neck slow wet kisses.

“We gonna’ fuck soon?” Ichigo asked, his voice echoing.

Renji hummed a laugh against his shoulder, letting his lips slide up to Ichigo’s earlobe. “O-hoh, I didn’t wear you out enough with that one?” He ran his hand around to Ichigo’s front, sliding it down the flat of his stomach. “I gotta’ step up my game.” He prodded at his sensitive parts, causing Ichigo to startle and elbow him in the gut. Renji just snorted and was driven back for no more than a second or two before he enveloped Ichigo in his arms again and stuck his head over his shoulder to let his hair under the stream of water.

Ichigo leaned away and sputtered when Renji shook his wet head like a dog, whacking him in the face. “Pff- Wh-” he spat, wiping his eyes and grinning in spite of himself. “Not that all this messing around isn’t fun.” Renji grunted his acknowledgement, scrubbing at his head and then pushing his hair back. “Because it is – it really is.” Ichigo raised an eyebrow as Renji glanced at him. “I’m just tryin’a’ use that day planner I got from Byakuya.”

Renji snorted and linked his hands in front of Ichigo’s stomach, holding them together. “Do me a  favor and don’t talk about my boss while we’re naked.”

“At least I waited until we weren’t in flagrante delicto.”

“Don’t think I’ll be on board if you try anything in my office, Ichigo. Plus, if you do happen’a’ mention some guy’s name while we _are_ in flagrante, there’s gonna’ be a serious talk afterwards.”

“Ha-ha.” Ichigo reached for Renji’s soap and rubbed some over his arms and chest. “You don’t like the idea of fucking around in your office? One night when you’re working late, you can just sit back in your chair and think about how we screwed on your desk.” Renji was quiet for a long time.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Ichigo asked quietly when no response was forthcoming, giving him a curious glance.

“Just that Ikkaku was right.”

“What?! Are you serious?”

“Yep. ‘M a bad, bad man, an’ I’ve corrupted the young and innocent.” Renji nuzzled into his neck, teasing him with a big grin. "You’re completely ruined. Your only hope is to run far away.” He snuggled into his shoulder a little more and did a raspberry, which made Ichigo laugh and try to shove him off, but Renji cornered him easily, hands braced on either side of him. Ichigo looked at him through wet eyelashes, enjoying the sight of him with his long red hair down and in his face and a funny smile playing on his lips. He always looked so much softer with his hair out of its tie.

“Guess ‘m stuck then.” Ichigo quirked a grin, pushed his wet hair back and wiped his eyes, then reached out to move the dripping strands of Renji’s hair out of his face. Tucking a short piece behind his ear, he snickered at Renji’s dopey expression.

“Aw, you’re the best thing,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss Ichigo, who sighed and closed his eyes as their lips pressed together. Renji let a wet hand rub against his cheek and then separated them, pecking him on the lips once more.

“We are gonna’ do it, aren’t we, Renji?” Ichigo mumbled with suspiciously narrowed eyes, not willing to let the subject drop, especially with the way Renji seemed to be avoiding a direct answer.

“I’m workin’ you up to it.” Renji replied, kissing at his jaw and holding him against him.

“You’re workin’ somethin’, all right.”

Ichigo let his fists rest up on Renji’s shoulders, elbows trapped beneath Renji’s big arms. He watched as Renji’s thunderbolt neck tattoo stretched as he leaned around to kiss him on the ear. “I’ve waited this long – an' yeah, it’s my own fault. So what?” he cut Ichigo off before he could make some snarky remark about it not being _his_ idea to wait. “Now that I've finally gotcha', I’m gonna’ damn well enjoy you every way I can,” Renji rumbled, leaving a sucking kiss at the top of his throat, his thumb rubbing Ichigo’s back where he had his arms wrapped around him.

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s good ta’ indulge.” Renji separated them then, and let Ichigo slide around to share the space under the water so he could wash his hair. “You’re green. I’m showin’ you a good time.” Glancing through his dripping bangs at Ichigo while he scrubbed his head with soap, he noted, “Besides, after doin’ jack shit before, you don’t wanna’ do straight up anal first thing.” He combed his hair back with his fingers. “I’ll spook you.”

Ichigo looked back over his shoulder indignantly, one eyebrow raised. “What, _you_ , ya’ big dumb animal?” Turning back with a snort, he muttered, “I think I can handle you.”

“You sure about that?” Renji hummed in reply, and Ichigo startled when Renji’s arms locked around his waist, pulling him back hard against him. “You drive me pretty wild,” he growled in his ear, biting at it while Ichigo rather awkwardly tried to pretend he hadn’t jumped out of his skin just then. “I get kinda’ carried away…”

Renji ground his hips against Ichigo’s bottom, giving a few mock thrusts against him – which spooked Ichigo to the point that he froze and went limp in Renji’s arms. Giving a heady and lazy hum, Renji wiggled his hips against Ichigo’s back, his dick wedged in the cleft of his ass. Knocked forward when Renji thrust on him again, Ichigo braced against the shower wall with his arm, his body reacting far before his excited and terror-struck brain.

Renji sealed Ichigo’s back against his chest, his strong arms holding him hostage as he kept rutting against him, slow and hard, but with a little less force – maybe he’d seen that he’d startled Ichigo and didn’t want to scare him too bad. He trailed kisses down Ichigo’s neck, letting his hips stall, using the grip of his arms to pull Ichigo’s body back hard against his. Renji slid his hand down around Ichigo’s cock, still grinding against him as if demonstrating how he’d fuck him once he had his filthy way with him. They were both so exhausted from before that they were still soft, but Ichigo was breathless with surprise and excitement nonetheless. This was the closest that they’d gotten to… well, _the_ _act._

His heart pounded as Renji bit at his neck and licked from his shoulder to his ear, chewing on his earlobe. Renji’s heavy breath and the sound of his voice rasping in the back of his throat, growling through his chest was so goddam hot. Finally Renji let his hands rest on Ichigo’s hips and pecked him on the neck, thumbs rubbing soothingly over his quivering flesh.

“That all?” Ichigo panted, voice maybe a bit higher and more breathless than he would’ve liked. “What’re you gonna’ do, huh? You couldn’t scare anyone. Big softie.”

Prompted into riling him up with that deep voice he always laid on for the sole purpose of getting Ichigo hot, Renji pressed his hips tightly against Ichigo’s back and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’m gonna’ get inside you and pleasure you like mad.” Ichigo swallowed dryly, heart racing. “You're gonna’ think I'm the only man in the world.” There was a smile in Renji’s voice then. “You won’t even be able ta’ get up, you’ll feel so good - I'm gonna' make you  _melt_.”

“You’re pretty confident, are you?” Ichigo grumbled irritatedly, because even if that spooky-sexy voice turned him on, when Renji got cocky, it still pissed him off.

“My skills are legend,” Renji replied with a raise of an eyebrow, “I’ll wipe that smile off your face soon enough.” Ichigo didn’t point out that he wasn’t smiling and went back to soaping himself up, having gotten distracted.

“Cocky bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

He began washing his hair, turning his back to Renji in a snit, but was still privately smiling a bit. Truth be told, he was still unbelievably excited – if a little insecure that his childish glee and beginner’s mistakes were unattractive or frustrating. The anticipation of finally _doing it_ still got him tied in knots.

Fantasizing was always this vague blurry thing, because he didn’t know much about sex, actually. Or, well, he did now, because of his frustrating two years of suffering. He’d done some internet surfing. But, it’s not the same! He didn’t know anything about how it’d really be, how it’ll feel… to… you know, mess around in there.

Even in the privacy of his own home, in solitude, Ichigo had still felt irrationally embarrassed about venturing there. Which was stupid, because it was his own body and it wasn’t like he had an audience, but all the same, whenever he’d thought about doing it, or went to try, he’d just… It’s not that he’d felt dirty or _wrong_ , but well… it was the same feeling of being a naughty little boy he’d used to get whenever he’d looked at pornography, or even so much as a naked statue. He’d get all weird.

To be honest, he’d had worries that he might get like that when he and Renji started to do stuff, but strangely, wonderfully, Ichigo always got lost in the moment when it was actually happening. He’d be too into it, too wrapped up in Renji and the feeling and the constant barrage of _new_ to his senses, that he had no energy to be insecure, to get nervous. Ichigo hoped it’d be like that for… _that_ too! Which was why he was excited for Renji to get a move on, because he sort of needed help. Maybe when Renji did it to him, it wouldn’t be so hard.

“I’m just saying,” Ichigo mumbled, leaning his head towards his shoulder, eyeing Renji, who was doing something or other behind him – combing his hair? “We can start moving forward.”

“Mhm,” came the echo of Renji’s distracted reply.

“Like…” How could he put this without sounding completely juvenile? “What, not second base. I mean like…” Feeling embarrassed, Ichigo made some vague motions with his hands, because the words wouldn’t come off his tongue for the life of him. How the hell did Grimmjow say it so easily?

Whatever, Renji knows what he means. “You know what I mean, right?” He pushed his hair back from his forehead with the flat of his hand and dunked his hair under the water to get the soap out.

“Mm.”

Ichigo straightened, head popping up with a startled blink. “Hey, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah. Moving forward,” Renji parroted, his voice sounding kind of odd. Ichigo glanced back at him to find that he was sort of staring, his eyes glazed over in a way that made Ichigo feel suddenly and inexplicably modest.

Renji took a step closer to him, this strange look still on his face, and Ichigo quickly turned back around, staring at his feet and trying to fight off the sudden tremble in his hands. Geez, it was just Renji, no need to get all- all-

“So what you’re saying is that it’s fine if I start paying attention to your ass,” Renji pinpointed, which put it over the top and sent a flush to Ichigo’s face. Ugh, that was something he wished he’d grow out of – getting so easily and uncontrollably embarrassed. It gave Renji way too many excuses to fuck with him.

“I never told you to ignore it!” he shouted, which wasn’t exactly a good idea in the shower. The reverb quickly made him lower his voice again and growl, “God, you’re so-” His breath choked off with a small ‘eep’ noise as Renji stood behind him, loomed there, but didn’t touch him. Ichigo turned his face down and bit his lip, clenching his fists.

Renji’s breath fogged into his ear for a few moments, and then thankfully, Ichigo was free to move again as Renji leaned back from him. Ichigo hurriedly grabbed the soap again and scrubbed himself, forgetting what he’d already washed and just deciding to do it again. He could clearly feel Renji’s gaze crawling over him as he soaped his hair and chest and legs.

“Well okay.”

Ichigo tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, his heart pounding feverishly as he stepped under the water and rinsed the suds off.

Renji exhaled sharply – Ichigo could hear its echo despite how normally the spray of water would drown out the soft noise. Ichigo tried to focus on washing his hair out, feeling the bubbles float down the length of his back and down his legs to pool at his feet.

Nearly jumping out of his skin in an entirely ungraceful and altogether awkward move, Ichigo barely held in a shriek when he suddenly felt some tentative fingers at his lower back, then Renji’s whole hand molding to his flesh and sliding down slowly, testingly, before finally cupping his backside appreciatively.

He hadn’t expected… Renji’s dragged things out for so long before that he hadn’t thought he’d do it right now. Fuck, he’s doing it now!

Swallowing, eyes flicking around in a frantic desperation, every bit of him feeling jam-packed with butterflies, Ichigo changed stances uncertainly, his bottom inadvertently flexing against Renji’s palm. That seemed to be all Renji could take, because his thumb dug into his ass for a moment before his hand ripped away.

Ichigo, disappointed, made to turn around to protest and say that he hadn’t been scared, keep going, they don’t have to stop, they’d only just started- but then he really did jump, because Renji caved against him like snow doused with water, dropping to his knees behind him with a groan. Ichigo startled as Renji clapped both hands over his ass, frozen with an honest to god gasp as Renji squeezed and kneaded his butt, watching the soap run over it.

Not pausing, Renji let out this growl of a gasp and smacked once on the fleshy part with the flat of his palm and then gripped and shook the small bit that wasn’t immovable muscle. Still surprised enough that he hadn’t the sense to say anything, Ichigo held one hand to the wall to balance, eyes wide as Renji grabbed him with an interest and clear attraction that he hadn’t shown even after Ichigo had turned twenty. Taking a moment to recover his fright, he swallowed and awkwardly stood under the water, feeling incredibly self-conscious as he occasionally glanced behind him to try and see what Renji was thinking of doing.

That familiar sensation of simultaneous humiliation and curiosity caused a rush of heat in Ichigo’s face. Seeing Renji just staring like that, biting his lip and- Fuck, Ichigo almost couldn’t look. Renji was watching the suds wash over his ass, cupping it just at the top of his thighs on each side; when the water ran clear, he licked slowly along the center, gathered the drops that had rested there, and ended by pressing a kiss to his sacrum.

Ichigo put his head in his hands for a brief moment, pulling on his bangs, and because he was a masochistic bastard as always, he peeked back over his shoulder again. Renji had leaned back slightly and was groaning rather pitifully, squeezing his buttcheeks together with an inhaled hiss through his teeth. “-!” Ichigo went to say something, but Renji then dove back in and bit him, shaking his head like a dog, growling. Ichigo’s breath stayed held in tightly, cheeks puffed out and flushed dark. Renji then kneaded his asscheeks and pressed them against his face, humming happily with his eyes closed.

This was more than Ichigo could take, and he twisted as much as Renji’s tight grip would allow, arms halfway up. “Yo!” he shouted, face red, “What’re you doing there?!”

“You’ve got no business having an ass like this,” Renji grunted rawly, moving back a bit and rubbing between his legs with his fingers. Ichigo took another breath to say something, but the words got lost, and he clenched his hands as Renji spread his cheeks apart and ran his fingertips over his asshole. Ichigo was forced to readjust his footing or risk slipping, thereby giving Renji better access. Ichigo thought he might make himself faint from how inflamed his face was, and just let his head hang low, hands braced on the wall. Fuck, Renji was touching him there. What would he do? Was he going to-?

Ichigo bit his lip hard and squirmed slightly, his toes curling up at Renji’s touch. As excited as he was, shit, he was really nervous all of a sudden. Renji’s never done anything like this to him before, touching him so boldly – it was just really setting in that they were gonna’ do this. It was a lot of trust to let Renji do that. Even now, Ichigo couldn’t completely fight off this feeling of embarrassment and uncertainty. Nobody's ever touched him there.

He swallowed and let out a shaky sigh as Renji rubbed the flat of his thumb over his asshole again, gripping his bottom and pulling the flesh to one side again to get a better view. Ichigo clenched his eyes shut. Did Renji have to _look_ like that?... What was so interesting about it?

Finally, Renji exhaled wistfully, heavily, clear longing in his voice as he breathed, “Damn.” Sighing contentedly, he pillowed his head on Ichigo’s bum and ran a loving hand up and down his flank.

“What,” Ichigo panted, trembling all over, but putting on a brave face as he glanced behind him, under his armpit, at Renji who looked like he’d figured out the meaning of life and was at absolute peace exactly where he was, his face resting comfortably against Ichigo’s ass. “Is that it?” he gasped weakly, swallowing again and licking his lips.

“Soon,” Renji promised, mumbling against his buttcheek, petting the other side with his hand. “Next time.” Ichigo was both disappointed and monumentally relieved. Renji stood up and ducked in for a kiss. Ichigo at first denied him to be a little shit, but then let him when Renji came in front of him and took him in his arms.

“Next time,” Ichigo mumbled back.

Later when they were both out of the shower and dressed again, Renji was at the counter, cutting some fruit. He was minding his own business and everything, bumbling around and letting Ichigo do his own thing, which would normally be appreciated. Today, for some reason, Ichigo couldn’t help but want some attention.

Easiest way to get it was to tick Renji off, but there could be a more fun way, if Ichigo was brave enough.

One thing that bothered him was how easily Renji could get a rise out of him when he actually tried, whereas Ichigo had to work much harder to embarrass or thrill Renji in return, but maybe... 

Ichigo swallowed at the thought of his secret fantasy, wondering if it would be enough to shock and scandalize Renji. Probably not, but maybe if he surprised him enough, it might work.

“Hey, how about a trade-off?” Ichigo called towards Renji’s back. He had his damp hair down, a towel around his neck to keep his yukata dry. Ichigo was enjoying the sight, knowing that Renji didn’t like leaving it down and would tie it back up again as soon as possible.

He crept up behind Renji, fingers itching to get a hold of what he knew was just out of sight, always teasing on the edge of his vision every fucking day, flexing and bulging and glistening with sweat, peeking just outside of Renji's collar,  _calling him_ -

“What’re you talking about?” Renji hummed in reply.

“…”

“Ichigo, I dunno’ what you mean.” Renji looked up when he got no response. “Ichigo?” He turned, confused when Ichigo seemed to be gone.

"...!" Renji’s arms popped up in surprise when Ichigo slid his own arms under Renji’s and squeezed his chest, his fingers digging into his meaty pectorals and pinched at where he figured his nipples must be under his shirt. Sure enough, he felt them stand up under his thumbs.

Renji, curiously silent and tense, almost dropped his knife and slapped it onto the counter next to his avocado. “What the fuck?!” he yelped, but Ichigo wasn’t ready to give up quite yet since he was behind Renji and therefore any uncertainty couldn’t be seen on his face. Pressing his mouth against Renji's shoulder to avoid his gaze, he massaged Renji's chest greedily and rubbed the little peaks with his thumbnails.

Renji heaved a bit, gasping, “Hh… Haaah, the flying fuck, Ichigo, you- … Oh, that’s-” Not having expected it to work so well, and almost aghast, Ichigo's fingers slowed. He hadn't exactly thought that he’d get this far, and not knowing what to do next now that he had Renji right where he wanted him, he paused in surprise, which was a mistake, because it only took that two seconds for Renji to recover, nab him by the wrists, and spin him around, pinning him against the counter.

Ichigo strategy was to refuse to admit guilt or uncertainty, instead blinking his big innocent eyes rather blandly, lips pursed – show no fear to an angry animal – and Renji glared right in his face, obviously not buying it one bit.

He tried not to smile, but he ended up snickering, to which Renji gave an exasperated huff and swatted him on the hair, then shoved him out of his space by his head. Ichigo was beaten back, but pilfered some avocado and melon and dodged another slap, moving off to gloat some ways away that he'd gotten away with touching Renji's cleavage. Success!

Renji squirmed a bit, rubbing at his chest when his nipples didn’t go down right away. Ichigo, cheeks full of fruit, eyed Renji suspiciously, and then almost spat out his food when he tried smiling with a full mouth. Renji was blushing a little and doing that embarrassed thing where he rubbed at his nose and scratched his ear.

“I don’t fucking understand you, brat.”

Ichigo just smiled and smiled.        

. . .

 

_You give me fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight, fever in the mornin’, a fever all through the night._


	10. Five

_I close my eyes and see you before me, think I would die if you were to ignore me. A fool could see just how much I adore you. I’d get down on my knees, I’d do anything for you._

. . .

 

Ichigo has about ten months to go until he’ll turn twenty. It’s the home-stretch.

Even so, he was still holding out some hope that he might get out of this thing early. He felt like he’d spent all of age eighteen angsting that he couldn’t change Renji’s mind. Tempting Renji and testing his patience didn’t do a goddamn thing, and yelling at him about it just made Ichigo feel bad. He’d given up on all that awhile ago.

Renji was still being way too stubborn about their age gap. Ichigo thought it was completely stupid. I mean, he understood why Renji thought the way he did, and if he was in Renji’s position, he knew he might think differently, but the position he _was_ in was that of a horny teenager who at this point would be satisfied with something simple like a milkshake date – god, _anything! Something!_

Yeah, Ichigo still thought it was stupid.

He’d saved the world how many times now? I mean, _come on_ – he’s been a soldier of the undead and  been practically gutted a bunch of times, he’d gone through so much, and Renji didn’t think he could handle sex? A relationship? It’s _stupid._

Still, the last time they’d talked about it, Renji had still been holding viciously onto the dumbass point of: ‘I’m like a billion years old, and you’re a _baby_ , shut the fuck up, I’ll fuck you when I want to.’   Ichigo thought you could use that point like once in an argument and then you’re done, but Renji loved that one.  It’s hard to follow up, and usually ends the discussion.

Ichigo got it. Sort of. Didn’t mean he liked it.

The last time they’d had that argument, Ichigo had left Seireitei angry again, and things had been strained ever since. For one, Ichigo had been spending more time in the Living World helping his dad out, visiting with Orihime and Uryu, and namely, _sulking._ He didn’t go to Seireitei as often. It’s been hard. He just hated going there and not knowing for sure if Renji even… _felt that way_ anymore… y’know? These days, it was like Renji either wouldn’t look at him, or if he did, he stared right through him, or _glared._

It completely sucked. Back when he’d been eighteen, they’d both just pretended they didn’t like each other when the truth was that they liked each other madly… Ichigo didn’t know if the change from then to now was welcome or not.

Whereas before, despite Renji pretending otherwise, Ichigo could still tell Renji wanted him and liked him because one of the following signs: erection, flushed cheeks, spoony sometimes sweet behavior – now, _now_ there was none of that. Renji had all of that on lock down. For the last two or three months, things had been really weird; _bad._

Ichigo remembered the talk they’d had a few months after he’d turned eighteen about how badly he hated pretending and that he didn’t want to wait like this anymore, that he didn’t like being apart – and even though Renji hadn’t been willing to budge just yet and it had been discouraging, there hadn’t been any doubt that Renji… y’know, _cared._ Renji had comforted him, reassured him that it was only two years; they’d make it, they would.

Now Ichigo just didn’t know. Renji’s been an asshole to him for a while now, and they haven’t mentioned this thing between them for a long time. Ichigo hadn’t wanted to start a fight, so he hadn’t tried, but that hadn’t helped. They’ve been at each other’s throats more and more.

Last time Ichigo had been in Seireitei, he hadn’t been able to take it anymore, and they’d had this big fight – not even a fight, that would’ve been better. It had been an _argument –_ and Renji had told him to just fuck off home, and Ichigo had. He’d spent the last few weeks upset and hurt that Renji had sent him away, and he hadn’t come back to Soul Society for longer than usual. That’ll make Renji sorry.

He’s had a lot of free time here, on his own, and he’d been thinking a lot. Actually, tearing himself apart was more accurate. He’d had some really insecure moments where he’d wondered if Renji didn’t want to do this anymore and stopped liking him, just didn’t want to deal with him at all anymore. Was it his fault this wasn’t working? Was it his inexperience that was driving them apart? Probably. It probably was hard for Renji having a dumb, lovestruck, horny kid following him around, annoying him, a constant nuisance.

What if that was how Renji felt about their situation now? What if Ichigo’s impatience had become too irritating, too difficult to handle? What if just being around Ichigo was what had made Renji that mad, was why he’d sent him away?

Could he just not fucking stand it anymore that he had to make Ichigo go away from him?

Would he miss Ichigo at all? When he came back, would Renji be happy to see him or just tolerant?

Ichigo couldn’t stand thoughts like that. He didn’t know how to voice his concerns either, because Renji didn’t want to talk about it, and Ichigo was embarrassed by how young and insecure those worries were. It felt like every time he tried to open up or ask a question, he just got so angry that he fucked it up, or it came out wrong because he was too shy. Why bother – Renji wouldn’t listen anyway.

They haven’t been completely open about anything since shortly after that time when Ichigo had been eighteen and impatient, and Renji had gotten all… It made his skin prickle just thinking back to it.

Things have definitely gone downhill since then, now that they’re not talking about things, because they’re back to pretending that nothing’s between them. Ichigo fucking hated pretending. Well no, it wasn’t even pretending, really. They both knew what they felt for each other, and were making a conscious choice to keep each other at arm’s length. It was torture. It felt pointless.

It was so hard, knowing Renji felt that way and having to sit and wait and do nothing, and now that so much time had passed – it’s been almost a year since that heart-to-heart in the locker room – Ichigo didn’t even know _that_ for sure anymore. He didn’t need Renji to say it every day or anything, he wasn’t that insecure, but it’d been months now, and _nothing_ , not a single sign other than clear frustration and a short temper. What if Renji had stopped liking him?

Was that why he’s been such a dick? Renji’s been so touchy lately, kind of quick to snap, even downright _mean_ , and Ichigo had gotten fed up. Every time they see each other, sooner or later they have a blowout and are at each other’s throats, and not in the good way. It’s gotten downright nasty, to the point where Renji had actually told him to leave.

Ichigo didn’t know what broke or how to fix it, how to go back to the before. He just wanted to go back. He wanted things to be how they were, when they were happy and together when everything was new, and… and innocent, before this dark heavy part had woken up within him and made him want, made him _impatient_ , made Renji have to make an impossible choice to either hate himself or hold Ichigo back.

It’s all Ikkaku’s fault. Fucking Ikkaku.

Ichigo sighed. He missed Renji. He just wanted to see his dopey face, y’know? He just wanted to be with him; they don’t even have to talk. He just wanted them to be together without this tense monstrous _thing_ being there. Even just for a minute.

He wished he could talk to Rukia about it, but she was so busy, and besides, she hadn’t been helpful the last time he’d asked, because she’d agreed that once Renji had put his foot down like that, he wouldn’t change his mind. There wasn’t any point in arguing. If Renji wanted to stop things and keep a distance between them, there was just no point.

Ichigo just didn’t know. He’d felt so lost and confused and frustrated lately that he didn’t know what to do. He’d gotten so desperate that he’d actually gotten some outside advice – from the strangest, most unreliable source out there when it came to decision making, the embodiment of destruction, the forces of impulse, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

And you know, not bad. As long as you’re okay about getting relationship tips from the dirty tricks department.

The principle of his advice was all right, y’know, going for it, taking what you want – all good in theory – but Ichigo wasn’t exactly sure how that would work in real life. With how tense his friendship has been with Renji lately, Ichigo didn’t know if it could take a wrong move right now.

After sitting on the advice for a few months though, Ichigo was just so tired that he was willing to try anything. Even laying an ambush seemed better than enduring this animus a day longer.

. . .

Ichigo had finally gotten the stones to show his face back in Seireitei, and Renji had avoided him for the whole time he’d been here so far. Go figure.

When he’d arrived back a few days ago, Renji had greeted him nonchalantly and offered to put him up as usual, but they hadn’t spent a lot of time together since then, since Renji had a lot of work to do. Ichigo was starting to think that Renji was just slaving away of his own accord and that it wasn’t Byakuya’s doing anymore. He didn’t voice this suspicion however, too busy playing this carefully orchestrated game of avoiding each other and keeping the peace – balancing on a beam. It seemed easy when close to the ground, but so far from the place you love, so high above the earth, when any mistake could send you hurtling towards certain death… yeah, Ichigo wasn’t eager to start a fight.

Ichigo had asked when they could hang out after knocking on Renji’s office door frame halfway through the second day, and Renji purported that he was behind or something, and had a bunch of stuff to do – ergo, they’d hang later. Renji always seemed to be behind these days. He didn’t look so great either. Still, Ichigo didn’t say anything about it, and instead tried to hang around Rukia’s office instead. She put him straight to work, got his mind right off it all. He fucking loved Rukia.

Even so, he couldn’t skirt around the thoughts completely, and soon enough, his mind would go creeping back to it. He wanted to put his plan into action, but he was so apprehensive that he didn’t think he could do it.      

Renji avoided Ichigo, and Ichigo avoided Renji right back. Each time they crossed paths, Ichigo would get so unbelievably and irrationally scared that Renji was going to tell him that it just wasn’t working, that this couldn’t go on anymore, that Ichigo just shut down and decided it was better not to push.

He just wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to fix what had gone wrong so that Renji would like him again, so that he would spend time with him again without it hurting, without every second feeling like if one of them breathed wrong, it’d all be over. It wasn’t just them he was worried about either, he was worried about Renji. Why did he look so damn tired and worn out all the time? Did _Ichigo_ look like that? Why didn’t Renji want to see him? Was he being busy on purpose, just because he’d come back? So he’d have an excuse?

When Rukia could no longer stand him and sent him away, Ichigo fought Kenpachi to distract himself and unwind. Yeah, _unwind._ That’s how tense he was.

Afterwards when he was hanging around Squad Eleven in excruciating pain, Ikkaku mentioned that Renji’d had some rough nights lately. Even Rukia had said that Renji was acting like a sad sack. When Ichigo heard that, he knew that it was time for a confrontation. No more being a chicken shit; who the fuck cared if everything got wrecked if it meant he’d have to keep enduring this hell? He hated not being able to talk to Renji, to not be around him. He was fucking doing something about this.

Grimmjow’s first course of action: approach and provoke. Or better yet, lay an ambush. If that didn’t work, use the secret weapon!

Ichigo translated that to mean that he had to wait for the right time to initiate a conversation, and if the right time didn’t come, he could try ticking Renji off enough that he would spill his beans and be willing to talk, or well, holler back and forth. Even that was preferable to Renji’s stone-faced silence.

So Ichigo walked to Division Six, gathering his courage by getting himself mad, figuring that’d make things easier. He’d be less nervous. After standing outside Renji’s office doorway for a few minutes, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels, he then realized that Renji could probably sense his reiatsu, considering how worked up and antsy he was. He hastily knocked on the doorframe and walked in. Renji glanced up, but continued working, writing slowly with his brush.

“Yo, what’s up with you?” he called, getting straight to the point.

“You need something?” Renji said with a frustratingly neutral tone, which pretty much made Ichigo feel like coming here and grilling Renji was the right decision. He couldn’t take one more fucking day of this shit.

“Yeah,” he raised his voice, causing Renji to finally pick his head up and look at him. “I wanna’ know what your problem is.”

“What’re you talking about?” Renji sighed, brow scrunching, and Ichigo knew that they’d hardly talked since he’d arrived so Renji probably thought he hadn’t had time to tick Ichigo off yet, but he couldn’t be more wrong there.

“Why’re you all…” Ichigo made some nondescript gestures. He sighed then when Renji seemed to wither and give up with pretending nothing was wrong. He looked so goddamn tired.

“Somethin’ goin’ on?” Ichigo voiced a bit more quietly, leaning against the wall by the door, arms crossed.

“I’ve had a tough week, okay?” Renji mumbled defensively, as if to say Ichigo was making it that much tougher. “Now get off my ass.” Wow, he couldn’t have made it any clearer that Ichigo was unwelcome around him. Probably the only way to get clearer than that was to tell him to leave like he had last time.

“The fuck, Renji?” Ichigo furrowed his brow incredulously. Renji was already gonna’ just…

Renji narrowed his eyes at him, his hand clenched on his brush, wrists resting on his desk. “Go,” he ordered sharply.

What the fuck, he’d fucking said it! “Are you throwing me out?” Ichigo gaped. “What, you don’t wanna’ see me? It’s been ages now and you’re still mad?” Renji eased back in his chair a bit, seeming to be biting his tongue.

“I’m working,” he grit out.

“Talk to me,” Ichigo demanded, coming towards Renji’s desk and putting his hands on the edge, which made Renji lean back with a frustrated sigh. “Why’re things like this? _Why_ can’t you just-”

Renji put a hand to his temple, eyes closing. “Look, I’m tired. I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what? Have a conversation?”

“I can’t deal with you.” Renji slapped a hand to his desk, giving Ichigo a long-suffering look. “Just go.”

“ _Deal_ with me?” Ichigo shouted, “What the fuck is your problem?!” Renji refused to raise his voice to match his, probably wary of his captain being somewhere around here, ready to write him up for disorderly conduct in the workplace. Ichigo was exempt for some reason, and he didn’t give a damn right now if he got Renji in trouble.

“Ichigo, I don’t wanna’ fight right now, just lay off.”

“Not until you tell me what crawled up your ass and died,” Ichigo snapped, tempted to flip Renji’s stupid desk. “You’re gonna’ tell me why you can’t look at my face.”

Renji pointedly rolled his head back, giving him a pointed sarcastic look and raising one of his thick eyebrows. Ichigo nodded satisfactorily.

“Thank you. Now tell me why you’re bein’ an asshole.”

Renji’s carefully blank face scrunched in a snarl and he finally shoved himself back from his desk and stood up, getting in Ichigo’s face. “ _Fuck you_.”

“Get mad if you want, you’re gonna’ fucking talk to me, Renji,” Ichigo said loudly.

“What if I don’t?” he hissed.

“Then I’ll beat it out of you,” Ichigo growled, trying his hardest to sound sinister, glaring.

“Fine,” Renji sighed in exasperation. “You wanna’ fight, I’ll give you a fight.”

They tear up the yard – Ichigo would be surprised if Byakuya didn’t tear up their asses at some point after all this. There were unseated members of Renji’s squad watching, and it couldn’t be good for him, because Renji wasn’t fighting well. Usually being angry improved Renji’s technique, impassioned him, but today he was slow, sloppy even.

After ten half-hearted minutes on Ichigo’s part and five or so of Renji growing more and more enraged, Ichigo finally called, “What’s _wrong_ with you? Why’re you being like this?!” Renji just snarled and pushed harder, whipping the coils of his shikai towards Ichigo, who’d fought it too many times for it to pose a challenge anymore. Renji wasn’t even really trying despite how pissed he was getting.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? You used to be able to do that,” Ichigo huffed frustratedly, brow scrunching. Renji grit his teeth and then dialed back, one foot shifting in retreat.

No... No way... He wasn't gonna' _run_ , was he? He wasn't that determined to avoid this that he'd turn and go, was he?

“Renji,” Ichigo said, heart crumbling as he held a hand out to him – why, to stop him? To tell him that every part of him had frozen with the sudden scream of _don’t go, don’t go, don’t walk away from this._

Renji shook his head and backed up, and Ichigo’s hand fell.

“You should just go back.”

Ichigo stared after him, sword hanging limply from his hand as he watched Renji turn and walk away, his head, usually held up pridefully, hanging low in shame.

. . .

After heading apart, Ichigo wandered around during the night to avoid going over to Renji’s to sleep for as long as possible. He thought and ached and sat on the rooftops looking at the moon until he couldn’t bear it anymore, and he trudged back.

When he got there, sliding the door open and coming in as quietly as he could, he looked around. No one was in the front room; Renji was already in bed then. Sighing in simultaneous relief and disappointment, Ichigo headed to Renji’s cupboards and sat awake miserably with a roll, occasionally gnawing at it.

He'd hoped that coming back to Seireitei would've helped, that they would've been able to get through whatever this was, but maybe… maybe things wouldn’t work out after all. They’d always fought, but… this had been going on for so long now. If they didn't fix things soon, they might have a falling out, or worse, passively drift apart. Ichigo put the heel of his hand to his brow, clenching his eyes shut and sighing. The frustration was wearing on him; it seemed like the more he reached out, the more things got worse. Renji was pulling away. He just didn't understand why.

Ichigo didn’t know why they were pretending. He didn't see the point when they both knew what this was really about. He just didn’t know what he’d done wrong to make Renji stop liking him, to make him want Ichigo to go away. What had he done? What could he have done differently to keep this from happening? God, Renji was going to leave him, wasn't he. Not that they were together, but, you know. Ichigo bit his lip and dug his palms into both eyes, sniffing. Fuck, he didn't want Renji to leave him.

Ichigo’s throat hurt. He just didn’t know why this was happening. Renji… he really…

He knew that it had to be him; he knew this was right. Ichigo’s heart did the _heart thing_ around Renji. You know: jumps, flips, squeezes.

      _Loves. Hurts._

Ichigo was fairly sure that it was over. He didn’t want it to be over.

He sniffed again and cleared his throat, feeling miserable . . . He didn't know what to do.

Apparently Renji hadn’t been in bed yet after all, because as Ichigo was about to put his head down on the table in drowsiness, there were footsteps in the corridor, and Renji came into the house with a clatter of the door that was startling after so long in the dim quiet of the empty house.

Ichigo picked his head up and stared back into Renji’s wide eyes and baleful face. Maybe he hadn’t expected Ichigo. Suddenly embarrassed and feeling unwelcome, Ichigo wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He felt stupid now - they'd fought earlier, of  _course_ he wasn't welcome. He hadn't been thinking.

“You’re back,” Ichigo finally said customarily when neither of them spoke for a long time, just staring at each other.

Renji unfroze, his expression hardening. “M'home,” he responded flatly, finally moving over to eat something, a glass of sake and a sweet bread. Ichigo watched him as he fumbled around and then headed to a sitting cushion on the floor and took his sandals off, rubbing his feet.

Neither of them said anything, and Ichigo sat there sadly, wishing he knew where they stood. He knew he ought to say something, but this moment felt too fragile, too easily broken. It felt like everything was at stake and he was taking a chance on wrecking his entire world. Ichigo swallowed and licked his lips as he watched the dark line of Renji’s uniformed shoulders shrugging and stretching within the confines of his shihakushou as he worked the knots out of his back that he’d acquired from sitting in his office for too long. Ichigo wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d gone back there after they’d separated earlier that day.

It was so quiet that he could hardly take it, the type of quiet that made you feel bad about moving, lest you make a noise with your clothes or your breath and break it, draw attention to yourself. Ichigo wanted to scream, to shatter this thing that was choking him and holding him hostage. God, would Renji just look at him?

Ichigo watched Renji’s back for a long time, listening to the sounds of him chewing, and slowly turned back around, staring at the otherwise empty table and letting his fingers rest there. He took a deep breath.

 _Step one was wait for the right moment. If it doesn’t come, make it yourself_.

“… You wanna’ tell me what happened now?” His voice almost seemed to echo as it penetrated the thick silence.

After an uncomfortably long period in which no response came and Ichigo began to curse himself and bite the inside of his mouth, finally there came a single solitary, “No,” which sounded off and then died.

Ichigo sighed quietly, and fidgeted, his nails scraping the wood of the table as he scratched at it. He swallowed hard as Renji sat in silence for a moment, both of them trying to hear the other, listening to their nonresponse, their tense nonreaction. 

“I don’t even know why the fuck you’re here, Ichigo.”

". . ."

Ichigo’s throat tightened up to an almost uncontrollable and scarily narrow circumference, and his eyes... shit. ‘ _Fine_ ,’ he thought, ‘ _Fine.’_ He tried to swallow and took a few unsettled breaths, before standing up from the table.

“… Whatever,” he whispered, because that was all his voice could manage. “Go away then.” He went and laid down on the futon Renji had put out for him, closing his eyes.

He tried not to think about the asshole on the other side of the kotatsu with his stupid sweet bread and his shitty attitude. Ichigo didn’t see any point in staying here past tomorrow morning. Renji couldn’t make what he wanted any clearer. Fuck it if Ichigo was going to keep getting crushed like this. Ichigo would go stay at Rukia’s and then go home later. This whole thing would be over with.

If that was what Renji wanted.

Ichigo clenched his eyes shut and shoved his head on his pillow, biting the inside of his cheek. His throat really hurt.

Renji didn’t leave the room immediately. Ichigo, as much as he tried not to pay attention, as much as he tried to ignore Renji’s every move, he could hear him stay for a while. He could hear him get up – the subtle creak of the tendons in his legs – and then his soft plod across the room to put his cup on the counter – a soft clink of glass – and finally his retreat to his room.

Ichigo thought he heard the door close and then let out a rough sigh, clenching his hand in the blanket. ‘ _Fuck,’_ he thought, biting his lips viciously, the pain in his throat mounting. He keeps his eyes clenched shut, because if they’re shut it doesn’t count.

His lip wobbled, and he bit it fiercely in punishment at its betrayal. He squeezed his eyes tight, ignoring the way they felt cold and itchy in the inner corners. _It doesn’t count._  

He was about to punch the floor with his fist when he heard a creak, and he froze, his eyes snapping open and his breath stilling as if to be able to hear better by eliminating all other noise.

The door creaked slightly and Renji stepped back. “Sorry.”

Ichigo didn’t breathe, listening to the echo of the quiet word, replaying it in the ensuing quiet until he almost had to wonder if he'd imagined it. He heard Renji slowly walk further into the room, and he could hear his breathing, wet and irregular, hesitant. It cut off and Ichigo practically startled at the next raw words, scraping out in a choked rasp, “That was really rotten…”

Ichigo sat up and Renji was there kneeling by his bed, his fists on his thighs, head down. Ichigo sniffed sharply and scrubbed at his eyes with his forearm, frowning hard. “Truth is,” Renji mumbled, fidgeting by repeatedly letting his thumbnail flick off of his index knuckle, “…” He looked up at Ichigo, his mouth drawn in a wretched grimace. “I’ve really fucking missed you, asshole.”

“Renji…” Ichigo swallowed and tried his hardest to hold down the sudden hot bubbling of- He blinked and blinked to fight it down. It didn't count, this was a dusty room!

“I thought maybe…” Renji looked down at his spread knees, his voice slow and almost timid, shamed. “I tried to,” he attempted, losing his breath halfway through again. “Thought that it might pass,” he eventually croaked, “if we were apart.”

“…” Ichigo stared, lips parted, throat mercifully unclogging. His chest heaved in and out, his hands clenching against his legs.

“Maybe it would get easier,” Renji sighed, eyes clenched shut. “But it’s no good.”

Ichigo frowned. He’d been livid for a second there, but… Was that really why Renji had been such a jerk? Was it possible that he felt just as helpless and clueless about this whole thing as he did? Just as emotionally stunted and childish? Was that why he’d done what he did?

“Sometimes when you’re here, I almost can’t stand it, but then when you’re away…” Renji’s fists clenched, one rising up to press against his left brow. “Well,” he smiled a bit, “I don’t like that even more.” He swallowed rawly. “I don’t like how I get… I don’t like myself when I get like that.”

Ichigo shifted a bit, kneeling himself across from Renji, his palms placed face down on his legs. Renji shook his head with a sigh. “I know I’ve been a real asshole lately. Every time you come here I’m a total dick ta’ you,” he raised his eyes to Ichigo, and they were sad, apologetic, so tired, “but the truth is I miss you when you’re not here.” He clenched his fists. “I’ve missed you so bad,” he whispered.

Ichigo swallowed, his breath coming in short bursts.

_Step two was strike. Right in the throat, Kurosaki, get him in the jugular. Make it painful._

“I…” Ichigo licked his lips, flicking his eyes to Renji’s almost shyly. “I miss you too. When I go.”

Renji seemed to crumple, his chest tensing as he exhaled. His eyes and mouth pulled down at the corners and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t wanna' pretend anymore,” he croaked, his eyes darting around Ichigo’s face. “I hate this.” He breathed through his nose a few times, biting on his lip. “I fucking hate this.”

Ichigo swallowed and nodded.

“I dunno’ what to do,” Renji whispered, eyes flicking around more quickly, almost frantically, hungrily. His body tensed and strained, as if struggling to reach for Ichigo, but holding itself back. “I'm trying to do the right thing, that's all I'm tryin'a' do, but it's like the harder I try the worse it gets… I don't know what to do, I… I just don’t want to pretend anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Ichigo whispered, his heart pounding wildly. Maybe, there was still a chance... a chance that... just maybe-

“…” Renji looked back at him longingly, licking his lips and heaving with unrestrained breath. His gaze on Ichigo’s face broke and flickered to the side uncertainly, guiltily.

“Just-” he coaxed, easing himself forward, inching into Renji’s space.

Renji put a hand to the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face up like he was in pain. “Ichigo, don’t do this to me,” he grit out, “I’ve gotta’ be able to face myself in the mirror every day. I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do otherwise.”

“…” Ichigo played with a loose string on the blanket Renji had put on his spare futon. “We could give it another try,” he suggested hopefully, peeking an eye at Renji. “Dating, I mean. I don’t see what’s so hard about that?”

Renji seemed to think about it, however reluctantly, which was a start. He let out a slow breath, brow creased in a troubled frown. “Really?” He grimaced, shifting. “Ichigo, I dunno’…”

Seeing that if he pressed a bit, he might make some headway, Ichigo laid out his case. “We already spend a lot of time together anyway. Well, we did before you starting acting mental,” he said flatly, and Renji had the good grace to look ashamed. “And…” Ichigo cleared his throat somewhat anxiously. “I dunno’, I liked it.” It was quiet for a few moments, in which Ichigo blurted, “Not the mental thing obviously.”

Renji gave a huff of a laugh and put a hand to his forehead, rubbing as he did when he was stressed. “Ichigo, it might make things easier if we don’t get too close.” At Ichigo’s punctuated dread-stricken silence, he ventured to clarify, “Not to split us up forever, I mean. Just… it might make waiting easier.” Every inch of his face, from his sad eyes, to the crease next to his mouth, right down to his tensed brow screamed that he didn’t want to spend another day pretending that he’d rather be anywhere other than in Ichigo’s arms.

Ichigo didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before. It seemed so obvious now that Renji hadn’t stopped liking him. All those dark moods, all the messed-up shit he’d said, all that fighting and distance, it was so glaringly obvious that it came from Renji trying to keep them apart and then being frustrated when it hadn’t gotten any easier, any less painful. And really, Ichigo knew exactly what Renji meant when he said that he couldn’t stay away. 

“Waiting is gonna’ be tough no matter which way you split it, Renji,” Ichigo noted, feeling much better at this point, more secure in the knowledge that the loyalty of Renji’s heart hadn’t wavered in its strength.

“I know,” Renji huffed almost hysterically, “but it might not be as bad if we take a break, maybe.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been doing the distance thing, an’ it doesn’t look like it’s working out for you.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Renji grumbled, scrubbing his eyes and then giving Ichigo a put-upon and suspicious glare. “All you’ve done is push this thing. How am I supposed to trust that you’re saying this is a good idea for the right reasons?”

“Well, you can trust me with your life, can’t you?” Ichigo pointed out uncertainly, to which Renji took a breath to refute him and then after a moment let it out in defeat.

“Yeah, but-” He shook his head, “How do I trust that if I say yes to this, you won’t try and jump my bones? Or tempt me and shit, you know what I mean!”

Despite himself, Ichigo smiled a bit. “Make a leap of faith?”

Renji gave him an extremely withering and skeptical look. “Thought you didn’t believe in acting on faith,” he muttered, eyes narrowed.

Ichigo raised his eyebrows with a deadpan expression, to which Renji briskly said, “Okay, so dating,” his own eyebrows raised in a mirror response.

“You can handle that, can’t you?” Ichigo drawled, starting to relax. He leaned back on his wrists and wiggled one foot in a bit of sarcastic teasing. “Or will the sight of my bare ankles drive you over the edge? Since you’re so worried that if I jumped you, you wouldn’t be able to resist. Perv.”

“Hey!” Renji gasped defensively, seeming morally affronted but simultaneously amused that Ichigo would use that on him. “I’m not completely sex-driven like you are, you horny little monster.”

“Apparently one of us has to be,” Ichigo mumbled, but had the decency to blush about it. Renji snorted.

“One of us’s gotta’ _think,_ that’s what.” Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“So dates,” he prompted, getting them back on subject. He pretended to lean back casually, but inside his heart was thumping double time. Would Renji actually agree? Would he really let this happen? Ichigo had been dying for sexual gratification for a long time now, but at this point he missed Renji so badly that he’d be okay with just a kiss, with just holding hands and doing the normal dating things. As long as they weren’t apart anymore, Ichigo knew that he could cope, that he could be patient like Renji wanted.

“Dates,” Renji repeated stupidly, like he didn’t know where this was going.

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Renji tugged on his ear, looking off to the side, and Ichigo knew then that he'd won. “Maybe.” He tried to contain himself, but he lit up in a grin and sat up straight, gazing at Renji eagerly. “Slow though,” Renji muttered insistently when he saw his reaction.

“Yeah,” Ichigo nodded, trying to fight down his grin.

“ _Slow.”_

“Fine, whatever. You suck,” Ichigo sniped, but he was still grinning like a maniac. Renji had agreed!

Renji’s eyes flicked to each of Ichigo’s, one to the other, several times, before finally he smiled a little hesitantly and looked down. He let one of his tensely coiled hands unroll from where it rested on his thigh and reached out to place it on Ichigo’s hand. Ichigo’s toes curled up and he tried not to smile or visibly shudder at that familiar and long awaited warm chill. He should be over the little things by now, but he still felt his face get hot at the acknowledgement that  _f_ _uck, they're holding hands._

“I guess all our usual activities are dates from now on,” Renji mumbled thoughtfully, more focused on looking over Ichigo’s face and carefully stroking the back of his hand. Ichigo, not wanting to play it too desperate or relieved, laid on the sarcasm, despite his inner wish to leap the foot between them and pin Renji to the floor – squeeze him in his arms and not let go.

“ _Those_ are dates?” Ichigo wondered incredulously. “Wow, you sure you don’t wanna’ ask my father for permission to court me, Mr. Serious?”

Renji blinked as though coming out of a daze, his smile fading. “D'you think I should?” Ichigo swatted him upside the head with a scoff. “Okay, okay,” Renji snickered, ducking and holding a hand up to block his arm. “I was kidding. Mostly.”

Ichigo sighed, letting his hand slip from under Renji’s to grasp it more firmly. Renji squeezed back. “What’re we gonna’ do for ten more months?” Ichigo wondered quietly, looking up to Renji in uncertainty.

Renji just gave an uncharacteristically gentle smile, his eyes glittering with mischief. “I’ll have to think.”

They both smiled somewhat excitedly at each other for a minute. Ichigo squeezed Renji’s hand with some deep breaths, and felt for the first time in a long time, that everything would be okay between them. Everything would turn out.

Renji sniffed a bit and laughed kind of awkwardly. “Sorry ‘ve been a dick.” He gripped Ichigo’s hand a little tighter. “It’s just been tough for me… I keep wondering if I’ve been selfish.”

This is what he got for falling for the biggest martyr in history. Ichigo held Renji’s hand back, smiling a bit at the floor.

_Step three is to bring him down. Get him on his knees._

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Ichigo brushed off, smiling. “Just as long as we’re okay now, ‘ts all that matters to me.”

Renji’s grip on his hand went rigid and Ichigo watched as his expression practically melted. “Fuck,” Renji whispered wetly, staring at Ichigo for a long time. He seemed to drift towards him hesitantly, like a raccoon circling a shiny bear trap. He held up a hand like he was thinking of touching Ichigo’s cheek, and then clenched it before it could touch him.

“That’s gross,” Renji rasped, his tone ghastly and as gloppy as melted honey, which meant Ichigo had totally got him in right in the heart-guts. Renji was a sap like that.

Ichigo snickered, unable to take it, and the tense sappy moment broke.  “You started it.”

Renji grinned right back, shaking his head, “You took it to another level of nasty right there.” He made a mock-revolted face and pretended to throw up. “Disgusting! What’m I supposed to say ta’ that mushy gooey sap?!”

“You’re the one who’s a mess,” Ichigo sighed, smiling. He’s missed this so much.

“Got me there.”  

They had gotten really close over the course of their playing, their eyes somewhat hooded, their breath a bit forced and loud. “Renji?” Ichigo muttered questioningly, leaning closer yearningly.

“Yeah?” Renji returned, frozen in place, but not retreating as Ichigo get closer and closer.

“I…” Ichigo moved in, swallowing. “I really…” Renji was letting him approach.

_Lastly… when you have him right where you want him…_

Ichigo’s heart was pounding hard, every nerve ending feeling fried, like he’d been struck by lightning. Every hair stood up, and his gut was warm and wobbly, like he’d drunk strong alcohol.

“Yeah?”

He started to close his eyes, their noses brushing together. He could feel Renji’s breath on his lips – their mouths were just barely touching, like the whisper of a feather, and suddenly they were kissing.

_Go for the kill. Fuck him up._

Ichigo’s body went slack with relief, all the tension of two years holding himself back flooding out of him in a heavy rush. He tentatively leaned into the warm seal of their lips, pressing his mouth tight onto Renji’s. They were kissing, their first kiss since he’d been seventeen and his first time kissing back period.

Renji cupped his head, his hand digging through his short hair as he carefully separated them. Ichigo kept his eyes closed for a moment, leaning back in, his mouth searching. “What?” Renji’s voice burst through the fog, and Ichigo’s eyes blinked open. Oh right...

“I forget,” he heard himself say, and he dazedly felt his mouth. He feels all… floaty.

Renji snickered a bit and flopped his head against Ichigo’s – Ichigo scowled at the teasing. Hesitantly, fiddling with his nails, he muttered hopefully, “Does this mean we can…?”

Renji’s eyes sparkled. “Don’t rush this…” He pressed a kiss to Ichigo’s forehead. “Don’t rush, Ichigo…” Renji’s head rested on his, and Ichigo let his eyes shut again.

“… Dating then? Gimme’  _something_ ,” he prodded. Renji thought quietly for a long time.

“… _Probation_ ,” he reluctantly ceded. Ichigo picked his head up off of his, leaning back from him with a flat grimace. Renji reached out for him again with a whine, causing Ichigo to fend him off at the chest with his forearm.

“You’re fuckin' impossible,” he grumbled, causing Renji to grin widely. Fucking shit-eater.

“But I’m fun, aren’t I.” Ichigo glared at him and didn’t say anything, leading Renji to laugh out loud. Ichigo listened to the happy relaxed sound and has never been more annoyed and endeared to someone before in his life.  Renji drove him to such extremes of anger and happiness that he couldn’t help but feel like this must be the… _heart_ thing. You know, four letters, scary, exciting, so hard to say, so horribly wonderful to feel.

It must be it. He felt more human than ever with Renji, younger and newer to life than he ever has. Whenever he was with Renji, he felt like his life was… like… like this was what he was supposed to do. Ichigo holds Renji’s hand tightly, their foreheads bumping together. This was what he wanted to do, where he wanted to be.         His heart had always told him what was right before.

He'd never thought... he'd never thought something so amazing could happen to him. He'd never thought he'd get to feel something so beautiful.

Ichigo bit his lip a bit, swallowing, and leaned up to try to kiss Renji again, even though he knew that at this point he was pushing his luck. Renji began to draw back, smiling as he stood up, leaving his head leaning low so that he could brush noses with Ichigo for as long as possible. “We’ll talk in the morning. Night.” He kissed Ichigo again on the lips, very lightly, and Ichigo felt fireworks go off inside of him, like the oddly pleasurable feeling of pins and needles when an asleep foot gets blood flow back into it.

Renji smiled at him a bit more, brushing Ichigo’s hair aside in a slow caress, and then headed off for bed. Ichigo smiled for a few moments, unmoving, before he changed his clothes, then practically hurled himself onto his futon, covering his lips with his hand.

Leap of faith, huh? Yeah, Ichigo didn’t believe in those. That’s what dumb people in love did.

He covered his head with his pillow and smiled and smiled.

. . .

 

_Oh, I don’t want anybody else. Oh no, oh no, oh no._


	11. Eight

_And I just might say it tonight, I just might say it tonight_

_. . ._

There were two more days until Ichigo’s birthday, and everything has been super weird. Nice, he supposed, but really fucking weird. For one, Renji's been really spoony for like, the past _week._ He’d been overly nice, paid him loads of attention, and was just generally affectionate. Really, it was gross.

It was like he knew that Ichigo was going to put him to work the day he was a man and that he wouldn’t have the patience for this shit anymore - so in the meantime he was wooing Ichigo at factor nine while he still had the chance.

Really though, if Renji tried to suggest that they wait longer after he’s twenty, Ichigo really _will_ kill him.

Not that going on dates and kissing isn’t nice and all, but Ichigo is an adventurous soul, and he’s been waiting _so long_ now. At seventeen when he'd come to the end and it had been time to choose his new life, he'd made his choice and then been left sailing round _his fucking island_ for ages, unable to come ashore _._  Two and a half years was all the suspense that he could take. This shit ended the night he came of age and not a day more. He'd like to see Renji try to talk him out of that one.

Well, at least Renji’s made it really clear how badly he also wants to have sex on a few occasions. Nah, he didn’t think that Renji would pull any bullshit. All this mushy bullshit could be chalked up to Renji just being a sentimental fool.

Even so, Ichigo intended to find out what his deal was, being all gooey so close to the end. It’s not like Renji hadn’t had the chance to be all shitty-romantic before now, so it was strange that he’d laid it on so thick all of a sudden. Maybe it had set in that it was finally almost time or something. Whatever, Ichigo wanted to know.

That night, Renji took him out to eat at this fish place to eat all the onigiri and spicy fish eggs that he could hold – he loved this man, he really did. He then proceeded to sit at his elbow munching on a tempura bowl and sipping sake out of a dish, smiling occasionally while Ichigo stuffed his face on his favorite foods.

After the twenty-five minute mark, it was starting to make him self-conscious. Usually they tried to out-eat each other. It’d been their go-to ever since they’d gone through Hikifune’s cooking in the Soul King Palace. Tonight, instead, Renji was - to be frank - mooning over him, like he wouldn’t rather be doing another else but watch Ichigo gorge on his favorite food.

Knowing that alcohol loosened Renji’s tongue, Ichigo decided to attack after his third glass but before his fourth, when he’d begin to fall off the fence towards drunk and away from buzzed. He waited until Renji started pouring himself a refill, and then, with his mouth half-full, he asked, “Yo, why’re you doin’ this, huh?” before stuffing in some more food.

“What?” Renji replied dumbly, snapping to attention. Yeah, maybe he was a little drunker than Ichigo had thought. The lovey look in his eye might have something to do with it.

“Spoiling me, following me around all day?” Ichigo clarified mildly, pointing at Renji rudely with his chopsticks, which caused him to raise his eyebrows, mouth ajar. “It better not be just ‘cause my birthday’s in two days.”

“Heh’,” Renji snickered at that, his eyes brightening at the reminder. “I know.” He set his jar of alcohol down and leaned on the counter of the food stand with his elbows, grinning. “I got you a present,” he told him happily, which Ichigo didn’t allow to distract him.

“Answer my question.” Never mind that Renji always said that the human practice of giving gifts on birthdays was silly and a waste of money, and not to expect him to get him shit, yet he’d given Ichigo a birthday gift every year since they’d met – barring his sixteenth and seventeenth, of course – with a sort of mumbled excuse that Ichigo should enjoy being a silly kid, and no, he didn’t want a gift back on his own birthday, don’t bother. Ichigo knew that in the old days, gift-giving hadn’t been the custom on birthdays, but Renji ignored the tradition for him, despite his moaning and groaning. It always got Ichigo all warm inside just thinking about it.

He wondered what Renji had gotten him this year, for his coming of age. All his gifts from Renji before have all been stupid or just plain weird stuff, because he wasn’t versed in what to purchase for a birthday, but Ichigo half-expected that this year it would be something really special, because it was totally like Renji to put some time into a meaningful coming of age gift; he was a sap like that. 

Just because Ichigo was curious didn't mean he was going to let him derail the conversation though.

“Oh yeah, uhhh.” Renji blinked for a moment in confusion at the demand, maybe having expected in his half-drunken stupor for Ichigo to be happy and excited about getting a present from him. Ichigo could practically see the gears turning as Renji tried to remember what they’d been talking about before. “What was it again?” he finally asked sheepishly.

“Why’re you acting so spoony all of a sudden?”

“Oh,” Renji repeated slowly, sucking the side of his lip before looking up to Ichigo in an almost curious confusion, brow furrowed. “Am I?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Ichigo replied flatly, shoveling some food into his mouth with a roll of his eyes. “A lot,” he mumbled, and he would be unintelligible but for the fact that they both had long since developed fluency in full-mouth-speak from all the times they’d pigged out together on Friday nights when Renji and Rukia finally escaped work. “You kissed my cheek in front of Rikichi today.” He still couldn’t get over that. He’d never know who’d turned redder.

“Oh.” Renji hummed, as if this was of some surprise to him, like he hadn’t been there or something. Ichigo resisted the urge to slap a hand over his eyes. Ugh. He must’ve mistaken Renji’s fourth cup for his third. “Yeah, guess I did.”

“Why?” he asked, as if he were dealing with a child.

Renji blinked a few more times, then shrugged. “I dunno’,” he answered noncommittally, and with zero remorse for his actions. “I guess I dint’ think about it.”

“Renji!”

“What?!” he shot back defensively, frowning. “What, I like you!” he shouted, sticking his lip out. “God damnit, ya’ caught me, I fuckin’ like you!”

“So?!” Ichigo whisper-shrieked back, because the shop owner was starting to give them looks. “That doesn’t explain why you’re acting weird!”

“Oh.” The attacked air slipped out of Renji’s shoulders and the stupid look replaced the anger. “Well I guess’m just happy. Lock me up, why don'tcha’.”

“Happy?” Ichigo curled his lip like the notion offended him.

“Yeah, ‘bout how lucky I am,” Renji replied, grinning and leaning his chin on his hand.

“What do you mean?” Ichigo asked somewhat warily, curling an arm protectively around his plate just in case Renji was about to try something weird like hug him out in front of the common masses. When that guy got drunk, he didn’t care that he was a representative of the Seireitei, and Ichigo couldn’t count out any surprise kiss attack, especially with the way Renji’s eyes were sparkling, all mischievous and affectionate.

“Well just two more nights an’ I get ta’ have you,” Renji explained, voice surprisingly soft, and Ichigo pursed his lips and glared at his plate like it was his food’s fault that he felt… softened. Damn effective, spoony, romantic, monkey-brained, idiotic-

“You already have me _now_ ,” Ichigo griped, stabbing at his food like a barbarian so that he’d have something to pretend he was busy with. “Unless you mean sex,” he noted, “in which case, hell yeah.”

“Nice try,” Renji replied, smirking on one side, cheek still resting on one hand, meaning that with his grin, one eye nearly closed. “Two days, Ichigo.”

“Hmph,” Ichigo grumbled in an only half-annoyed way. There was too short of a time to go to really be upset. “You’re stubborn to the bitter end, huh.” Renji laughed at that, his food entirely forgotten as he gazed at Ichigo like he was the funniest, most entertaining, weirdly interesting thing in the world, like he didn’t want to stop looking at him for a minute, like Ichigo was the thing he liked most.

Ichigo let out a long content sigh and took a drink of water before digging back in. They sat in silence for some time again, and Ichigo wasn’t as bothered by Renji’s eyes on him, softened in the evening light… It was _maybe_ a little romantic, with the fireflies out, and the moon about to rise, the skyline all rosy. Even the air felt like a lover’s caress with how muggy and warm it was, sticking to every bit of exposed skin.

“…” Renji scratched a finger at the cheaply painted countertop and nudged Ichigo with his foot, drawing his attention back. “Okay, f’real,” he mumbled, mouth resting on his hand lazily, “D’you really wanna’ know why’m’ spoilin’ you?”

“Yeah?” Ichigo replied questioningly.

“Kind of a dick move,” Renji mumbled, and didn’t clarify for some time, leaving Ichigo to tilt his head and narrow his eyes at him in confusion. Just as Ichigo was about to ask what the hell he was talking about, Renji went on, with an almost creeping slowness, his eyes having dropped to his hands. “Sayin’ for you ta’ stick around for two an’ a half years like that,” he explained, “an’ wait an’ see. That ain’t fair. I feel bad for that.”

“Ahh, it wasn’t so bad,” Ichigo brushed off, uncomfortable as he always was when Renji apologized that genuinely for anything.

“No, really.”

“Forget it, I don’t know what you’re even talkin’ about. S’fine.”

“All of that bullshit I pulled, you liked me through it,” Renji muttered, looking at him in wonder, voice quiet and thoughtful, “thinkin’ it’d all be worth it. Thas’ some serious faith.”

“Renji.”

“And I just wanted'a' tell you back, that it was worth it for me too. I'd do it again, even," Renji went on, eyes slipping closed, his voice going almost sleepy as he slapped around for Ichigo’s hand, clumsily holding it. “Ten thousand days apart, wantin’ you, Ichigo.” He yawned and smiled wryly, one eye peeking open just a sliver. “That’s how much that I like you.”

Any other day, Ichigo would’ve told him to shut up and not say weird shit to him, he would’ve told Renji he was fucking drunk and to go walk some of it off, but tonight, under the light of the moon with Renji’s warm hand on his sweaty one, Ichigo just ate his food quietly and didn’t say a word, because drunk or not, he knew exactly what Renji was talking about, and he thinks it was worth it too.

. . .

When they made it back to Renji’s house in the small hours, they went through the routine. They changed into their sleeping clothes, said goodnight, and separated.

Ichigo tried to wind down, tossing around three times before he made himself lie still and close his eyes. No matter what he did, he felt too… unsettled to relax. He listened to the sounds of the night and counted his breaths for what seemed like an eternity, until finally, he yawned, and rolled over one last time, his hands tucked beneath his head as he slipped just beneath the veil of consciousness.

After about an hour of restless sleep, Ichigo roused when he heard Renji come out of his room and creep around. Probably going to the bathroom. Ichigo could hear him fucking around in there with the sink and shit. Maybe getting a glass of water. He listened for a long time, toying with the edges of sleep again. Finally, the noises died down for the time being, and Ichigo let out a shuddery sleepy sigh.

What surprised him was when he heard Renji begin moving again, his footsteps crunching the mats along the hall, growing slightly louder as he approached, coming into the front room and settling near his futon, then going quiet. After thirty some seconds of silence, Ichigo opened one eye and uncertainly rolled over, picking his head up to look around. Overcome with a sense of déjà vu, Ichigo startled to see that Renji was hovering over him slightly, holding a hand out like he’d been about to wake him. Wow, that took him back to his high school days.

Ichigo grunted tiredly, scrubbing at one eye before looking at Renji in confused expectation. It’s so late, what the hell was he doing?

“Oh,” Renji whispered sheepishly, as if he seemed to rethink what he was doing. He withdrew his hand. “You’re awake.”

Ichigo sat up, yawning, and looked at Renji through heavy sticky eyes. Renji was holding a box in rather uncertain fidgety hands. Ichigo inhaled breathily, feeling a bit more awake, hardly daring to move.

‘ _Is that for me…?’_

“I thought,” Renji tried abortively, seeming to feel foolish, maybe regretting whatever he was doing, “Uh… Sorry I woke you up.” He grimaced apologetically and rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he felt sort of stupid. Ichigo didn’t know why he was whispering in his own home when it was just the two of them. Maybe nighttime did that to people.

“I was awake already,” Ichigo rasped, “What’s up?”

“I…” Renji took a breath, and then seemed to say ‘fuck it.’ He scootched forward a bit on his knees so that they bunched up in Ichigo’s futon. “Please take this,” he said a bit loudly and very formally, holding out the box to Ichigo with both hands in proper gift-giving form.

Ichigo didn’t know what to say. He raised both eyebrows and then confusedly noted, “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“I know, but…” Renji’s head tilted to the side a bit, a smile spreading across his face like melted ice cream spilling from a bowl, slow and messy and sweet. “Go ahead an’ open it early.”

Ichigo stared at Renji for a minute in disbelief and awe, before lighting up in a slow smile of his own. Was he really…?

“That’s breaking the rules, Renji,” he mumbled lowly, truly surprised.

Renji smiled down at his knees, and Ichigo remembered something Rukia had once said about betting that they were saps when they were alone. Maybe she’d been right all along.

Renji adjusted his grip on the gift, his smile warm and his chocolate-cherry eyes on Ichigo’s. “I don’t care, I don’t want to wait.”

Ichigo had to just stare at him for a few moments, his heart squeezing, but he grinned and accepted the box. He folded his legs, sitting up straight and turning towards Renji with his feet tucked under him, and watched how Renji’s expression eagerly shifted as he waited for Ichigo to look at the gift. Anticipation, curiosity, impatience, uncertainty, excitement – it really was… well, cute.

Ichigo held the gift in his lap and looked at it politely and made an appreciative noise, because his mom had taught him good manners. Renji sat across from him for a few quiet moments, hands curled up on each thigh. Finally, when he seemed unable to wait a moment more, he urged, “You gonna’ open it?”

“Now?” His head popped up curiously. He hadn’t expected to open it right this second. He’d thought maybe Renji would go back to bed or something. Surprised but pleased, Ichigo gave an incredulous grin. It was bad form to open a present right in front of the giver, because one could usually assume what the gift was and didn’t need to check it until later, when in private. That is, unless… unless the gift was special. Ichigo began to feel a little excited. What did Renji get him?

“Yeah, I wanna’ see you open it.”

Trying not to let on how eager he was to open his present, Ichigo looked at it more closely. He bit the inside of his lip to try not to smile too much at the fabric wrapping, which was a pattern of orange fishes, carefully tied shut with another piece of orange cloth – happiness and love.

Ichigo fought the urge to bring the gift to his forehead or hug it. Renji, you sentimental fool…

He carefully unwrapped the fabric and saw that inside was a polished box with dark wood. Taking off the lid and moving aside the inner covering, a dark soft cloth, he was surprised to see… Zangetsu.

Lips parted, Ichigo blinked a few times at it, looking up to Renji for a second and then back down to the tiny sword. He shifted the box to one hand and reached out a finger, running it along the painted wood.

“Ikkaku taught me how, an’ then I had Momo help me paint it,” Renji explained when Ichigo didn’t say anything and merely marveled at it. He pulled on his ponytail, mumbling gruffly, “It’s not that great, but… Well, this is just my way of saying… Yeah.” He cleared his throat, scratching at his ear like he did when he felt awkward but was trying to say something he really meant.

“This is you, to me.”

Ichigo wondered at the sight of it, tilting it back and forth in the low light. It looked just like the constantly released form of his shikai, the one he’d stormed Seireitei with for the first time.

“I just wanted you to know,” Renji began to talk faster, “that you don’t have to feel like you’ve gotta’ grow up faster for me ta’ love you better, because… 'cause…” He sighed, nose wrinkling up between his eyes. “You’re already great.” Ichigo just stared and stared at it, Renji’s voice floating through to him even through his own stunned silence.

“You’ve already done some amazing shit, Ichigo. I know people change as they get older. Just…don’t let go of that person,” he whispered.

Ichigo carefully took it out of the box and held it in his hand. It was slightly longer than the length of his hand, going from the tip of his middle finger to about two inches past his wrist. The wooden edge had been hewn to a mock sharpness, and the paint made it look almost like it could cut flesh, but as Ichigo felt the point, it was clearly wood, brittle from being carved into such a thin slice. Ichigo couldn’t stop looking at it, it seemed like it had been pulled straight out of his memory. There was even a trailing bit of string around the small wooden hilt, and Ichigo smiled as he remembered the white wrappings of his zanpakutou in those days, when it had been too broad and long to wear at his waist, and too sharp to carry on his back without any sheathe.

It seemed like such a long time ago now. When he thought of those days, how much he’d grown since then, sometimes he resented that _that_ was who people knew him as – this bulky unrestrained brute force.

Ichigo looked at it, and he smiled a bit at the representation of his sword. Back when he’d known nothing about suppressing spirit power, when he’d been fighting Shirosaki, no control, no finesse, no experience, immature, all blind determination and stubbornness and nothing else - Renji remembered everything about that time, and it was all right here…

“You don’t have to say anything,” Renji finally put forth rather awkwardly after Ichigo’s long pensive silence. “It’s okay if you don’t like it, I got you chocolate too.”

“No, it’s nice, it’s…” Ichigo licked his lips and looked back up at Renji.

He took a breath, intending to say something back, something that could match the sentiment and the memory and the fond feeling that Renji had put into that, something that could try to explain the heart-thing Ichigo feels in human terms, but instead, he just set the box down and kissed Renji.

It was a warm thing, slow and long, and heartfelt. Renji snuck a hand into his and laced their fingers, using the other to hold Ichigo’s chest to his. Ichigo didn’t know when their tongues started to languidly stroke one another, but when they do, Renji lay him back on the bed, slowly, one vertebrae at a time, finally setting his head down and looming over him, one arm braced on his other side. Ichigo’s arms laid on the blankets and his chest rose and fell as Renji began kissing him on his neck and under his jaw, his ear.

When Renji’s hands started to skim and grip the collar of his yukata, Ichigo let his arms snake up around Renji’s shoulders and he gasped, breathing wetly as Renji seemed to lose himself in a moment of indecision. It didn’t last long, and Ichigo viciously dug his hands into Renji’s hair and held Renji’s head against the crook of his neck as he yukata came open at the chest. Renji’s hands, with a sense of indulgent guilt but a simultaneous greedy disbelief, slid over his bare skin, and Ichigo held onto Renji tightly.

Renji was holding him, touching him, his mouth pressing wet warm kisses in a trail from his neck to his collarbone, lower, lower, the damp area seared with his hot breath as he went. Ichigo held Renji almost frantically, desperately – if he stopped now-

To his great relief and excitement, Renji threw his leg over Ichigo’s and hovered over him, a quiet hungry glint in his eye before he leaned back down to kiss Ichigo again, carefully and slowly settling his weight down on him. It didn’t take Ichigo more than a second to wrap one leg up around Renji’s, linking it there and using it to press their bodies together. A shuddery breath escaped Renji’s heaving chest, the warm breeze fluttering Ichigo’s bangs. Slowly, Renji let his hips rest atop Ichigo’s, his weight bearing Ichigo down into the few layers of blanket and settling a delicious pleasure through his sensitive flesh. Their lips brushed, and they shared a quiet gasp as they moved together, Renji’s hips with a more slow cautious grind, coordinated, while Ichigo’s were tentative and sporadic, coupled with small excited puffs of breath.

Renji didn’t succumb to a more savage starved pace as he had that day long ago when Ichigo had tempted him in the locker room – this time he let out a long almost resigned sigh and wrapped his arms around Ichigo’s shoulders, underneath him, encircling his back, and held their faces close as they rocked together. Ichigo thought his heart would burst from it’s frantic fluttering pace and the excitement that- maybe- _finally-_ Ah, it felt so unbelievably nice…

“Ichigo,” Renji panted, evidently more affected by the situation and the steamed atmosphere than Ichigo had previously assessed, “Ichigo.” He gave a loud swallow and a small whisper of a moan on the next breath and bearing his body down on Ichigo’s, twisting and pressing his hips against him in small, slow, but effective motions, slight curls of his lumbar vertebrae which caused his lower back to bend and slacken beneath Ichigo’s hand.

He didn’t know what Renji was trying to say to him, whether to beg him to stop or to simply relish that they were together, in each other’s arms- but he couldn’t take it. Ichigo swallowed and gasped into Renji’s ear, his throat and his breathless lungs making his voice come out unbearably rawly. “Renji,” he rasped, “I don’t want to wait.” He held onto Renji fiercely then, because he could already feel the return to sanity taking him over, stilling the wonderful grinding of their hips together. He could already feel Renji easing away into safer territory.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” he begged unabashedly, burrowing his head into Renji’s neck and trying to hold onto him, keep them pressed together. He wrapped his legs around Renji’s back and held on like a koala, but he knew, with a sad sense of disappointment, that it wouldn’t work.

“One more day,” Renji rasped, sounding as though he hated himself for it. “Just one more day, Ichigo,” he practically pleaded, gently trying to press Ichigo back, get him to loosen his grip on him without hurting his feelings or making it seem like rejection.

“What’s one day gonna’ do?” Ichigo argued with a frustrated desperation. Renji leaned back down and continued kissing on his neck, pacifying him enough that he released his death grip, which allowed Renji to slowly draw his hips away and lay at his side, his arms still around him.

“You won’t try to back out of it, will you?” Ichigo mumbled, revealing a long-held and rather vulnerable secret fear of his… Only because it was nighttime and they were alone. Maybe he might’ve whispered it and looked away, even though it was pretty dark too.

“Only one more day, Ichigo, an’ you’re all mine,” Renji repeated with a pleased hum, laying his weight across Ichigo’s chest, holding Ichigo’s arms to the bed, gentle thumbs skimming his wrists.

“But you won’t pull some bullshit though, will you?” Ichigo might’ve let his expression soften into one of concern and maybe, _maybe_ worry. His brow definitely creased somewhat more sadly than he would’ve usually allowed.

“Don’t worry,” Renji whispered in his ear, kissing at it, which made Ichigo flinch and smile at the tickly sensation. One of Renji’s legs wormed over one of his, not enough to let their still-fading arousals revive, but enough that their bodies could rest warmly and snugly against one another. Renji’s hand let one of Ichigo’s escape in favor of skimming the side of his face, his thumb teasing Ichigo’s lower lip as he nudged his head aside with his nose and whispered hotly against his jaw, “I think my patience can only withstand this last day.”

Ichigo couldn’t deny it – he totally had one of those full-body shivers that left you with goosebumps and all the hair standing up on every flat surface of skin. He curled his toes up and swallowed, and if he thought he was hiding the thrill of Renji lowering his voice purposefully to sound sexy – which he seldom did for the exact reason of not wanting to encourage Ichigo – well, he was fooling himself.

“The things I’m gonna’ do ta’ you,” Renji breathed, and Ichigo couldn’t help it, his breath started rushing in and out in excited puffs, and he squirmed, wishing that Renji would lean that small bit closer and press his mouth against his neck again. God, Renji turned him on…

“Ohh,” slipped out. He meant to just acknowledge Renji’s sentence with a simple ‘oh,’ but it had come out as a breathy, stuttered, almost- _moan_ that he was immediately embarrassed by, because he could feel Renji smile against his neck.

Those words sent his mind into a whirlwind. What would Renji do? What would he do when the hours on his adolescence finally dwindled down into nothing? What kind of things would Renji show him and do with him? He could hardly take the tantalizingly enticing scenarios that came to the forefront of his imagination.  

“Oh,” he tried again. “Yeah?” He said this in the hopes of prompting some more explanation, no matter how much that proved that he liked to torture himself…

“Yeah,” Renji hummed, his voice rumbling through his chest and vibrating Ichigo’s insides. Renji pulled back enough to look in his eyes and smirk, and Ichigo tried to scowl, tried to appear unaffected and not every inch the spooked, excited, inexperienced kid that he was, but he knew he failed badly, because Renji’s smirk grew wider. He kissed at Ichigo’s cheek, his chin, down the front of his throat, where Ichigo knew Renji could feel it every time he held his breath, every time his voice tried to come out and he held it back. “I’m gonna’ pleasure you in every way known to man,” he mumbled against Ichigo’s pulse. Ichigo heaved and gasped, feeling truly helpless and thrilled by the fright of uncertainty. Whenever Renji got like this, whenever he teased him back a little, Ichigo was seized motionless by the fear and excitement, the delight and the simultaneous anxiety; it was horrible and wonderful, he loved nothing more, hated nothing more than the suspense.

What was Renji going to do? God, what would he do to him? He could do anything when Ichigo was like this – oh god, what would he do to Ichigo?

Renji took a handful of Ichigo’s hair and pulled it tight. Another fractured noise burst from Ichigo’s throat, in pieces, as if chopped up and tossed out one by one with no sense of rhythm. “-until you can’t fucking take it anymore,” Renji whispered harshly, seeming to relish it, like he was imagining it just as Ichigo was, as riled up and close to breaking as he was.

“O-” Ichigo stuttered, unable to even complete a moan without his breathless gasps getting in the way “O-ohh.”

“We’re gonna’ make love ‘till you forget we’re separate bodies. You won’t be able ta’ pick our reiatsu apart – I’m gonna’ tie you in a fucking knot.” Renji’s hands ran up and down his body in a surprisingly calm and slow gesture for the way he was talking. His voice took on a note of amusement then, and he dialed back the intense spooky-sexy factor to about one or two, giving Ichigo room to breathe and sweat and shake.

“I’ll make all this taking-it-slow shit up ta’ you. I’ll make you cum for every fucking day I made you wait,” he murmured in Ichigo’s ear, kissing him a couple times, lightly, tenderly, affectionately, “No, Ichigo, once I’ve got you… you just see if I ever let you go after that.”

Ichigo lay there for a moment, quietly gasping for air and staring at Renji, who had sat back a bit to see his face. “You… you…” His brow pinched.

“What?” Renji inquired.

“ _Cocktease!”_ Ichigo howled, snapping up, his cheeks so full of blood that thankfully his dick wasn’t in as much trouble as it would’ve been otherwise. He beat Renji around the head and shoulders with loose fists and open palms and all the frustration of a pack animal being led along by food dangled by a line in front of its nose.  “This is the – _last – time – you do this to me!”_ He whacked Renji for emphasis, but Renji just laughed and laughed. He thought that was funny, that fucker!

Ah well…

Ichigo smiled a bit begrudgingly… _eventually_ – because well, there _was_ only a day to go, and it was maybe a bit funny. Not that he’d admit it out loud.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid,” Renji sighed with a fond smile, cuddling up next to him, his feet sticking out further than Ichigo’s and his head and arm curling around Ichigo’s shoulders, the fucking giraffe.

“Don’t call me that,” Ichigo muttered back, sulkily, but conceded to rest his head against Renji’s shoulder, just underneath Renji’s own head, his forehead a pillow for Renji’s cheek.

“Last chance I got,” Renji murmured through a grin, and pulled Ichigo into his chest for a final long squeeze. Then they rested their heads together and lay there on Ichigo’s blankets until sleep came.

Maybe, maybe now Ichigo understood it.  And maybe it wasn’t stupid after all. Not entirely.

. . .

_I just might tell you tonight that I love you._


	12. Twelve

Ichigo’s been a man for about two weeks now, and he has a serious problem.

Oh, don’t get him wrong. Things have been great – really _great_ – up until now. No complaints. Renji’s been awesome.

Everything’s been smooth-sailing since Ichigo’s birthday. He’d turned twenty two weeks back, and he’d been really excited about what that meant for his relationship with Renji. Now that he was of age, they’d moved forward and have been messing around and learning what they like, and everything’s been great. Let him repeat again, _great._

Thing is, they haven’t had sex yet though. Well, not sex in the technical sense. Nothing’s gone inside anyone's ass yet. Tonight was the night though. Ichigo felt like he’d been waiting for this day for ages. Here’s the problem – after all this buildup and having it out of reach for _so long_ , Ichigo was starting to suspect that over those three years, he’d had some unreasonable expectations, that the idea of what he’d been missing out on had been just some over-cooked fantasy of a horny teenager.

Now that it was actually happening and Renji was knuckles deep in his ass, Ichigo had come to the abrupt realization that abstaining as a teen and not doing any self-exploration or any experimenting, or even having some sort of open conversation with Renji about sex before now had been a complete and total mistake.

Let him explain the situation.

Things had progressed naturally. For all Ichigo’s joking about wanting to use that day-planner and pencil Renji in for Friday evening, they hadn’t picked a specific time. They hadn’t set an expiration date on Ichigo’s virginity or made a big deal about things, so Ichigo hadn’t had any reason to count down the hours and get himself all worked up and nervous.

It had been a completely normal day. Renji had gone to work and Ichigo had wandered Seireitei until he’d found somewhere he could be useful, which hadn’t taken long at all. He’d eaten lunch with Rukia after Renji sent him a message letting him know that he had a lieutenant’s meeting and they couldn’t hang until later. Once it was about five thirty, Ichigo had stopped by Renji’s office to find him already gone, then met him at home, where they’d greeted each other, eaten something for dinner, and tried to play some mahjong in the front room.

Even though Renji’s vacation time had been used up, their honeymoon phase wasn’t over by a long shot, so playing mahjong inevitably derailed. One thing led to another and soon they’d been kissing enthusiastically and dragging each other to the bed.

Which is where Ichigo was now.

One thing Ichigo had noticed was that Renji was in a really good mood today despite Byakuya apparently saddling him with a bunch of extra responsibilities to be completed in the coming months. Anyway yeah, Renji’s good mood - Ichigo could tell because of how he was humming a lot. He did that when he was feeling up.

Once they’d landed on the bed, Ichigo’d tried to begin the still-new routine of fighting each other’s clothes off, but strangely that time, Renji had held his wrists down until Ichigo had gotten the idea and laid still. “Hey,” Renji panted happily, grinning. “Hey Ichigo.”

“What?”

“Wanna’ try an’ have sex?” Ichigo blinked a bit, still breathless from their previous kissing, but when the idea set in, he nodded enthusiastically, unable to fight off his own grin.

Practically bouncing from excitement at his agreement, Renji took all their clothes off and eagerly kissed Ichigo’s exposed flesh as it appeared beneath his hands, and Ichigo lay on his back, avidly participating.

That is, until Renji had spread his legs open and rubbed his fingers eagerly beneath his balls, stroking down the crack of his ass. It was so sudden and surprising compared to all the other activities that they’d partaken of in the previous weeks that Ichigo nearly snapped his legs closed – which wouldn’t have been good, because they would’ve grabbed Renji by the neck and mashed his head right into his groin. There was a time and place for that.

It was kind of ridiculous, considering ‘want to try and have sex’ obviously entailed doing that stuff, but all the same, it had caught him off guard. Renji  _might_ have been on to something when he'd said he had to warm Ichigo up to full-on sex, because suddenly, the act seemed much more daunting than it had a moment ago.

“Here, lemme’ just- Yeah, that’s better.”

Before Ichigo could say anything, he yelped as Renji had hooked his hands under his knees and pushed his legs back and apart, and it was all Ichigo could do to not clap his hands down over himself. Luckily he fought the urge down before he did so. He didn’t want Renji to think he was scared and stop. This didn’t keep him from biting his lip and tossing his head to the side, face halfway in the blankets, one eye still free to peek down and watch Renji’s eager expression suspiciously.

Ichigo jolted with a stuttered noise as Renji honest to god _licked his lips_ before hunkering down onto his belly – Ichigo assumed it was to see what he was doing better. Ichigo let his legs come down a bit, placing the soles of his feet on the futon. Renji pried his legs further apart again when Ichigo moved his knees together.

“Ah fuck, look at you,” Renji breathed.

Feeling alarmingly exposed and self-aware, embarrassed even, Ichigo picked his head up a little bit as Renji squirmed on the bed a little more and got comfortable on his front, his hands stroking Ichigo’s backside and thighs lovingly, which was somewhat comforting. Ichigo had to admit that he was feeling sort of anxious now. He did like it when Renji spooked him a little, but this was toeing the line between sexy-spooky and the point where he got _actually nervous._ Like, nervous enough that his erection was going down.

He hadn’t expected that kind of move from Renji. This kind of thing hasn’t happened until now… Were they really doing it now? Feeling Renji’s fingers around his asshole, pressing and prodding, stroking, Ichigo’s chest convulsed on a gasp that couldn’t get out - they’re really doing it _now._

Renji let out this low bone-rattling growl of a hum, clearly smiling, and Ichigo does a little bit too. Fuck, they’re going to do it! They’re really actually going to this time, _finally_. He almost doesn’t know what to do, he’s so crazy-happy and scared.

Excited, Ichigo’s breath picked up, so heavy and quick that it escaped even his tight and seizing throat. Renji wet the skin with oil, sensuously rubbing it into his flesh and squeezing his backside greedily with his hands, his thumbs digging inbetween and circling his asshole. Ichigo must've made a noise finally, a surprised yelp or something, because Renji glanced up at him with a tentative smile. 

"You nervous?"

Ichigo's tried to keep his breathing in check, as Renji's thumbs slowed where they rubbed lubricant against his opening, massaging the muscle insistently. "Maybe," he admitted, "but only a little..."

"It won't hurt," Renji offered as comfort. "I know what'm doin', it won't hurt."

Embarrassed that Renji felt that bad for him that he would try to assure him that nicely, Ichigo huffed, "Geez, I said _just a little._ "

"Okay," Renji laughed, letting out an anticipatory breath, eyes flicking up to Ichigo's face. "You excited?" His grin widened when Ichigo nodded, panting and wriggling his toes at the prying motions of Renji's fingers. Ichigo hadn't expected it to be that sensitive there... 

By that point, Ichigo's erection had almost completely died, and as he realized this, he pulled at his dick to try to get hard again, and was immediately dismayed when it wasn’t catching,  _at all_. Before he could dwell on this for more than a moment, Renji adjusted himself on the bed and wet his fingers again, getting ready- Ichigo's breath quickened in excitement, but his erection continued to flag nonetheless. Shit, not now,  _please_ not now...

"Coming in," Renji warned then with a smile, and Ichigo tensed up all over in anticipation, hands going down to hold onto Renji's forearms. "Woah, hey!... Don't wind up like that, just relax, just... just lay still. I promise you it's not gonna' hurt - just have trust."

Ichigo bit his lips and tried to relax and breathe, but it was hard to when he was so anxious. He managed not to jump as Renji pressed a wet finger against him and tested the resistance, but it was a close thing. "Oh," he breathed, swallowing hard as Renji pushed, trying to get inside him.

Forgetting everything else but focusing right where Renji was touching, it was as though his heart was right there, because that’s where his pulse was the strongest. He was _so_ hyper-focused in fact that he was surprised when Renji’s pressing fingertip suddenly popped inside, and he immediately bit his lip at the firing of unfamiliar nerves.

Easing in – and it really did go in easy – Renji began working his finger slowly in and out, and this choked gasp of a noise escaped Ichigo before he cut it off. He hurled his head to the side again, his eyes clenched shut and his toes curling up a little. It felt like the chill of hearing a certain piece of music or seeing a particularly emotional scene in a movie, where it just build and builds and suddenly your scalp and back feel alive and awake, tingling and standing up with goosebumps – it was that feeling, except it didn’t fade, it didn’t stop; it kept going and going again and again every time Renji dragged his finger through his tight muscles.

“Okay?"

It took Ichigo a moment to understand language and still longer to realize that it was a question he was meant to answer, which he couldn’t until Renji slowed to a crawling pace in concern. Even so, all Ichigo could get out was a response of, “Mhm,” the voice barely coming through in his heavy breath. Renji seemed satisfied with that reply, because after a curious moment of meeting Ichigo’s peeking eye, he continued fingering him.

Ichigo then went back to trying to get his lifeless dick to respond. He didn’t want Renji to stop, he just had to… to get used to it, that's it. He pulled on his cock and squeezed it, holding it against his stomach, but he wasn't getting an erection. The resulting panic and distress sent that spark of arousal even further away, and soon his desperate tugs to his penis were so ineffective that he gave it up as pointless.

So yeah, there it is. The day is finally here. He’s pushed for this and waited for ages, and now that it’s time, his dick won’t go up. Yeah. Big problem.

Shit, this was not working. Ichigo clenched his eyes shut and bit his cheek. Fuck, he couldn’t focus on anything but Renji poking around in there. He felt kind of like he was in a doctor’s office, under observation or something, with the way Renji was staring so intensely. He held his breath as Renji’s finger twisted inside of him and rubbed insistently, causing this deep... _itch_. He nearly squirmed in outright discomfort, but he managed to hold still to avoid giving himself away.

It wasn’t like it… _hurt_ , it just…

Ichigo honestly didn’t know how to classify the sensation. He couldn’t even decide if it was pleasant or unpleasant. It felt similar to when Renji pressed down behind his balls with his thumb, which he’d done before while doing blowjob type activities, but this feeling was much more intense, and Ichigo assumed it was because he was touching the prostate from the inside rather than from a safer distance. Ichigo couldn’t figure out if he liked it, and just lay there, sweating and gasping and trying to get into it.

Renji was having fun at least. Ichigo would occasionally lift his head, because he liked to see Renji down there, sweaty and watching what he was doing very intently, like he was mesmerized by his finger going in and out. His body heaved with lusty breaths, his back rising and falling where he lay against the bed. He’d occasionally press his hips into the blankets, humping the bed, but altogether he was the picture of calm concentration, like he was finally doing exactly what he’d been born to do and wouldn’t be hurried about it. Even now, his hands were slow and sure, every movement was calculated and obviously savored to the last iota. 

Ichigo loved to look at him, he loved to see him like that, his face flushed in excitement and his lips wet and pink from being licked and bitten. God, Ichigo felt hot all over just looking at him lying there, stretched out between his spread legs, his muscular shoulders splayed and tensing minutely with every motion of his hand. Ichigo swallowed dryly - it's disgusting how gorgeous Renji is.

Renji withdrew his finger for a moment, licking his lips eagerly and gazing at him with a certain hunger as he spread him open with his hands. Ichigo felt a sudden rush of blood to the head, leaving him nearly delirious with excitement. Shit, Renji’s gonna’ fuck him. All his teenaged fever dreams are about to come true.

Ichigo licked his lips. His palms sweat like they always seemed to around Renji and he pushed his hips out, closer to Renji, who groaned and went on with enthusiasm. He'd been so excited for this day to come. He was excited now. So why was he nervous all of a sudden? He’s so fucking nervous that he can’t get hard. He hadn't thought this would happen, fuck, this was embarrassing.

Ichigo swallowed and lay his head back, his whole body shaking, especially his clammy hands. Okay, keep calm. This was bearable. It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t like it was… _bad_. He didn't think Renji was going to go at him like a wild man and hurt him – Renji knew it was his first time. They don't have to stop just because Ichigo's having _issues._ It wasn’t like he wasn’t turned on either; he  _felt_ aroused, he really did! It just wasn't showing! He was excited beyond belief, his whole body flushed and slick with sweat, his breath heavy – everything was electrified, every nerve raw, _fried_ , but his dick wouldn’t go up anyways.

He grit his teeth hard as Renji spread his fingers apart inside him and massaged around the rim with his other hand. Ichigo flung an arm over his eyes and panted. _Fucking hell_ _._

You know, this was entirely his own fault. Never experimenting there on his own had been a huge mistake, and completely stupid. He hadn’t known that this was how it would feel. It was… different than he’d imagined. It was like Renji was rubbing directly on a raw nerve, trying to drive him insane.

Ichigo held his dick and rubbed on it for a while longer, trying to get it interested. The thing is, it was kinda’ obvious when a guy didn’t have an erection, and Renji eventually noticed, as distracted as he was.

“You okay there?” Renji asked uncertainly, peeking his head up at him.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he grunted tightly, meeting Renji’s eyes so that he wouldn’t look like the fucking liar he was. Renji scrutinized him, but eventually his gaze kept trying to drag back to what he was doing. Ichigo didn’t get what was so fucking fascinating about it, but Renji seemed really focused on it.

“You don’t look fine,” Renji finally noted suspiciously.

“Fuck you.”

Renji seemed to shrug somewhat and really turned up the heat, going back to doing that thing where he twisted his hand palm-up and curled his index finger in repeatedly, and that fried-nerve aroused-but-not-in-the-erection-way feeling ramped up like crazy. Ichigo tried holding in this strangled noise, but failed, settling for throwing his arm back over his face and hopelessly pulling on his dick.

Finally Renji’s fingers slowed and Ichigo let out a long sigh of relief, letting his tingling, trembling, sweating body relax, before catching himself. Shit, he’s not supposed to sound relieved! He peeked an eye out at Renji to find him looking at him with narrowed eyes and his eyebrows doing that scrunching thing they did when Renji was thinking.

“Ichigo,” he began, and Ichigo covered his eyes again because he knew this wasn’t going to be good. “If you’re concerned, I don’t intend to thrust unreasonably hard,” he promised sincerely, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

Throwing away all his attempts at acting chill to keep Renji from stopping or realizing his _problem_ , Ichigo flung up his arms with a frustrated huff, then slapped his hands to his face and groaned, long and loud. This was so unfair. He doesn’t believe in karma or Lady Luck or whatever, but they’re probably laughing at him somewhere, y’know, if they’re real, as if he’s the butt of some huge cosmic joke.

“Guuuhh,” he groaned, “What am I _doing?_ ”

Renji promptly pulled his fingers out and took one hand away from Ichigo’s face to look into his pitiful eye. The moment he let it go, Ichigo clapped it back to his face, which made Renji sputter in confusion. “Hey,” he mumbled, moving over Ichigo and kissing at his shoulder, his wrist, then his tightly-clamped hands, and his ear. Ichigo, somewhat mollified, was convinced in letting his fingers loosen somewhat, enough that he let his eyes peek through.

He glared out at Renji half-heartedly, although he didn't know why. He's sure Renji had been doing a good job. He was mad at himself more than anything really.

“Ichigo,” Renji cooed guiltily, coaxing him out, which just made Ichigo feel embarrassed. Thankfully, Renji started teasing, which Ichigo could deal with a lot better than being treated like a scared baby. “'re you that nervous? Hey, I’m not an animal,” Renji hummed with a smirk, “I’d go easy on you.”

Peeking through his hands, Ichigo saw no point in pretending otherwise, and instead of exploding that _no_ , he was definitely not _nervous_ , _how dare you-_ he merely stuck his lip out and dropped his eyes, ashamed of himself.

“You don’t think I could?” Renji mumbled amusedly, tipping his forehead against Ichigo’s knuckles and fluttering his eyes at him, flicking his eyelashes with his own. Ichigo put his hands down on the bed with a smack and closed his eyes in exasperation, shaking his head, his nose bumping Renji’s as he did so.

“No.” He rubbed his temple. “Yes. I dunno’. I _don’t_ _know_.”

Renji moved up next him, leaning on his elbow and lying on his side. “Look,” he said, hand mushing his mouth somewhat, “You’re the one who wanted ta’ do this so bad.” Ichigo let his eyes drop to his stomach, fidgeting and digging dirt out from his thumbnail. Renji wasn't mad at him, was he?... “Did you change your mind?” Renji asked tentatively. Ichigo glanced to him uncertainly. He didn’t seem upset.

“No,” he said truthfully, letting out a long sigh. “I’m just really wound up.” He gesticulated wildly, not able to meet Renji’s eyes as he grimaced and tried not to blush. God, he’s so embarrassed. All this time Renji’s told him he’s too young, he’s too inexperienced, he’s a kid, and for all that time Ichigo hadn’t felt it – but he feels it now. He feels younger and further in over his head than he ever has.

“I don’t wanna' stop – I swear I don’t! I know there’s nothing to be worried about! I just- I don’t know why I’m freaking out now,” he said, because he’d never been good at lying to Renji, even less so over the years. “I’m just wound up,” he repeated.

Renji had listened quietly until he was finished, nodding at his concerns, but then leaned forward and kissed him soundly, slowly, that warm contented safe thing that always got Ichigo all wobbly. Sure enough, Ichigo’s eyes slipped closed and he felt his muscles go loose and weak as they always did when Renji did that slow curl of his tongue under his. Ichigo sighed into his mouth and tried to let his fluttery heart settle.

“Then relax,” Renji breathed lowly, tipping his forehead onto Ichigo’s.

Ichigo scowled, his brow scrunching up, which pushed Renji back a few millimeters. “I’m trying, genius!” he yelped, whacking Renji on the arm. Renji snickered and backed up.

“No need to get pissy. I’ll help,” he said brightly, head popping up. Ichigo nodded, brow creasing as he let out a tight sigh. Okay. He can do this.

Ichigo held his shins, his feet flat on the bed and his heels pressed against his asscheeks. He tried his best not to feel like he was about to undergo alien probing, instead biting at his lips and making an honest attempt at relaxing.

Renji sucked and licked at the sensitive head of his dick to try and get him hard, working his fingers into his ass again, twisting and pressing them in deep. The conflicting firings of nerves left Ichigo in a fevered confused sweaty knot. Rubbing a comforting warm hand along Ichigo’s leg and side, Renji took his clammy hand in his and leaned back down and focused on doing that repeated curling gesture within him, which had Ichigo squirming and gasping wildly.

Ichigo tried pulling on his penis some more with his free hand, sweating. His face felt hot, and just breathing was the greatest effort. He anxiously glanced up to see if Renji looked more confident about where things were headed. Renji had told the truth about it not hurting, and Ichigo was starting to think that maybe that was all he was going to get the first time around. Maybe he just has to bear through this time and he would start enjoying it with experience.

He almost wished Renji would give up and put it in already so they could get it over with. That was kind of a shitty attitude to have - he didn't want to  _get it over with_ , he'd been so excited for this day, he'd waited with such anticipation, such excitement, and he'd been so happy when Renji had finally agreed to let them do this- He didn't want it to play out this way, so he closed his eyes and tried his hardest to think sexy and arousing thoughts. He breathed deeper and touched himself and tried to enjoy Renji's best efforts to get a rise out of him.

Finally he opened his eyes breathlessly and looked to Renji, panting; this was hard work. Was he ready yet? Could they start?

“Hm,” Renji noted, leaning back thoughtfully and taking his fingers out. “Wow, you’re right.” He put a hand to his chin. “This isn't working… Are you just not feelin’ it?” Ichigo let his head flop back to the bed. He’s feelin’ somethin’ alright.

“Not in the mood?” Renji continued, raising his eyebrows, rubbing his hands over his chest enticingly. “You don’t like all a’ _this?”_ he joked, and where normally Ichigo would’ve at least snorted, now he just snarled in self-directed frustration.

“I fucking told you, I’m nervous as hell!” he snapped. “Don’t make me say it again,” he huffed, rubbing his hands against his forehead.

“Aw, don’t be nervous, Ichigo,” Renji said with a frown. “I’m gonna’ be gentle. _Honest_ , I am.”

“I know, you said that! And you are! I can’t help it!” Ichigo yelped, and Renji frowned more - and suddenly it spilled out. “I don’t know what’s gonna’ happen!” He hadn't even really known he'd been holding that in until his deepest fears had passed his lips and were laid out for Renji to see and pity and _ridicule -_ he immediately fell silent, throat closing.

Sure enough, Renji's brows pushed together in sympathy, but he didn't tease, and Ichigo didn't know why he'd thought he would have. Of course Renji would never tease about something that personal.

“You’re not supposed to know on your first time,” Renji soothed, using that deep, calm, and knowledgeable voice of his that Ichigo both hated and loved because of its one hundred percent success rate in settling him down. “It’s _supposed_ to be _exciting_.”

"Well thanks!"

"You trust me, don't you? You know I won't let anything go wrong," he continued, refusing to match his hysterical volume.

“ _I said I can’t help it!”_

“Okay, okay, keep calm,” Renji appeased, holding his hands up. “Try an' pretend we’re just gonna’ mess around like usual.” Ichigo closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long slow breath, nodding as if to say ‘yeah, okay.’ Finally he opened his eyes back up, to which Renji looked at him expectantly.

“I can’t.”

Renji huffed, and ordered, “Imagine.”

Ichigo closed his eyes again, but mumbled soon after, “I’m not good at imagining.”

Renji sighed through his nose in frustration, but let it go. “Okay.” With that, he lay back down between Ichigo’s legs and kept trying, quite valiantly, but with no results. At that point, Ichigo was so discouraged that he could die.

Renji, bless him, just looked hopelessly confused despite his patience, which just made Ichigo feel even worse. He knew Renji was trying his best, it wasn’t his fault. Ichigo was just a dumb-ass virgin who didn’t work right. “This is all so _not_ good on my ego,” Renji muttered, scratching his head. “I’ve tried everything!” he added, baffled.

“Fuck your ego!” Ichigo gasped back, scowling.

Renji looked frustrated and saddened then. “Dang it,” he mumbled, flopping down and picking at the bedding with his fingernail. “I wanted’a’ do it,” he complained pitifully, and Ichigo felt truly horrible, because he did too, he really did.

“We don’t have to stop,” Ichigo urged tiredly, “it doesn’t hurt. Just put it inside.”

Renji’s head popped up, his expression angry and mortally offended. “There’s no point if I can’t pleasure you! Whadda’ you think I am?!” He scowled at Ichigo accusingly, and then redirected it at Ichigo’s dick. “C’mon!” he yelled, smacking Ichigo right on the flat of his cock, which got Ichigo’s attention.

“Hey!” he squeaked, “Watch it!” He cupped the goods protectively, curling up and glaring at Renji. "What the hell was that for?!"

“Get hard!” Renji shouted, irritated.

“I’m fucking trying, okay?!” Ichigo hollered back and spread his legs back open, giving Renji an almost desperate look. “Don’t give up yet,” he pleaded raspily, taking Renji's arm and trying to pull him back in. “I wanna’ do it. Keep trying, please."

Ichigo was really lucky that Renji couldn’t say no to him when he was naked and that he hated giving up, because Renji swallowed his protests and tried some more, and this time, it started working a little. By the end of Renji’s best efforts, Ichigo was semi-hard and he was getting used to being fingered, even _almost_ enjoying it.

“God,” Renji muttered with a frown and an expression of immense concentration, tongue in the corner of his mouth. “I’m supposed to be amazing in bed – this’s fucking _embarrassing_.”

“That’s my line!” Ichigo growled, because he’s the one up here who can’t get a boner. Renji stopped again then, sighing tiredly and giving Ichigo a contemplative look. "What?" Ichigo mumbled, "What, c'mon, don't stop now, it almost worked. Hurry, before it goes away!"

"It's not supposed'a be this difficult," Renji grumbled. "If it's this much of a struggle, something's wrong."

"Well sorry..."

Renji sighed, expression softening. “Really Ichigo, whatsa’ matter?” he questioned, “You worried about pain? That I’ll be too rough?” He gestured at Ichigo’s dick then, exasperated. “What’s it gonna’ _take?_ ”

“Oh my god Renji, I told you- You know I haven’t done this shit before. It’s hard.” Renji pointedly didn’t say anything, but gave his penis a conspicuous glance. “Oh fuck you!” Ichigo howled, kicking him in the gut.

Renji’s eyes went wide and Ichigo gave a satisfied smirk. ‘ _That’s what you get, you-’_

“Wait, yeah,” Renji coughed, pointing at him, not even mad about being kicked like that, which had Ichigo confused.

“What?”

“That’s it. _Duh!”_ Renji smacked himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. “Obvious!”

“Huh? What is?” Ichigo asked, whatever answer Renji had stumbled on completely lost on him.

Renji grinned then, like he did every time he felt really proud of his own smarts. Ichigo immediately frowned suspiciously. “How about _you_ do it this time instead?” he suggested. "You can - I'll let you."

Ichigo peeled himself out of the sweaty-patch he’d inhabited for the past twenty-five minutes and stared at him for a while with narrowed eyes. Finally, he muttered flatly, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Probably,” Renji replied, in a way that Ichigo felt was entirely too flippant and casual.

Ichigo sat up a little more, still scowling hesitantly. “… Really?”

“Yeah, go for it,” he said nonchalantly.

Ichigo swallowed at the thought of it - it had never occurred to him that Renji might let him; he'd thought he'd have to fight him for it one day, but here he was saying that he'd just _let him..._  To his grand surprise, his bloodflow turned on its head nearly immediately, and his dick twitched.

“Ah!” Renji gasped excitedly, eyes bright. “It worked!”

“Okay, okay, wait,” Ichigo sputtered, pulling his knees towards his chest, cheeks hot as he waved his hands about, “Just so we’re perfectly clear, you’re saying that I can…” He paused there, trailing off, hoping that what he meant was obvious.

Renji, in a perfect deadpan, replied, “I’m saying, ‘Ichigo, put your cock in my ass.’”

Mortified, Ichigo quickly blurted, “ _Okay, okay, that’s clear enough!_ ” waving his hands wildly. Face red, he glared down hotly at his cock, which was standing up like it hadn't given them both grief for the last half hour. ‘ _Fine timing, douchebag.’_

“Wow,” Renji noted amusedly, grinning at his pink cheeks, “You’re easily embarrassed,” then threw himself onto the bed with a contented groan, resting on his side.

“I dunno’,” Ichigo muttered, picking at his fingers and folding his legs, huffing at himself. “I just feel stupid. This is stupid.” He rested his chin on his hand. “Seriously, sorry,” he muttered, “This is probably really disappointing.”

He flicked his eyes down to Renji, only to find him grinning at him dopily. “Nah.” He leaned on his fist and grinned at Ichigo some more.

“What,” Ichigo muttered, brow scrunching in embarrassment.

“Nothing.”

“What!” he insisted, “What?!”

“You gonna’ do it, or just ‘what?’” Renji teased. Ichigo fiddled with his thumbs a bit more and chewed on his lip.

“You sure I can?” he finally mumbled uncertainly, although he couldn't deny that the idea had its appeal, _lots and lots of appeal_.

“Yeah.” Renji grinned widely. “I’ll be in your care,” he said with joking formality, to which Ichigo replied all too seriously that he’d do his best. “Do your best,” Renji repeated back encouragingly, snickering a little.

“Great, okay.” Ichigo ducked his head. All of a sudden, it was really kind of hard to look at Renji, which Ichigo knew was completely stupid, but all the same, it was hard. They'd both been naked this entire time, but suddenly, Renji seemed _very naked._ Out of the corner of his eye, once he was done with his fit of blushing, Ichigo could see Renji eagerly roll onto his back, legs flat on the bed but with his thighs spread, one leg bent at the knee to widen his stance.

Ichigo, still biting his lips, crawled over to him and ran his hand up Renji’s leg. Renji grinned up at him when Ichigo met his eyes almost shyly. “Not always,” he said teasingly with a ‘just this once’ tone, and Ichigo ducked his head.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll try again,” Renji assured, and Ichigo nodded hurriedly. "I'll do better by you next time."

“Yeah.” He leaned back and knelt at Renji’s side for a time, trailing his hands over his stomach and chest, his leg, his heart fluttering and his dick pulsing in excitement. “… Are you-”

“Ichigo, mother of fuck,” Renji snorted, “ _Chill.”_

“Okay, okay.” He swallowed and then moved down between Renji’s feet, settling forward on his elbows like Renji had when he was doing it to him. Then he reached out to touch between Renji’s legs, one hand petting his dick in a calming manner, the other… well…

Hesitantly, he held out two fingers and stroked the soft skin beneath Renji’s balls, rubbing a bit, and finally coming to rest above his asshole. He felt kind of indecent looking directly at it, which is stupid; it’s just a normal butthole. Of course it is, why would he have expected anything else. Finger stalling just above it, he bit his lip and glanced up to Renji, who’d made himself comfortable, arms behind his head and raising an eyebrow at Ichigo with a smug grin. What, does he think he can't do it?!

Oh, he’ll show _you._

Pursing his lips, Ichigo settled further on his front and tried not to feel like a kid who’d been dared to touch something scary.

He squinted his eyes tightly, so he could only barely see what he was doing, and let his fingertip touch, to which he immediately opened his eyes again in wonder and ran his finger around the soft puckered skin. Forgetting the bulk of his nerves, fascination and curiosity taking over, Ichigo lined his hand up and testingly pressed against the little bump. 

“Lube,” Renji reminded almost boredly, the picture of unconcerned calm, letting Ichigo fumble around and explore. Ichigo snapped his hand back, head popping up.

“Right, right.” Renji kicked the tube towards him with a laugh after he let Ichigo sweat and hunt for it for a full thirty seconds. Ichigo used some of the lubricant, slicking his fingers and Renji’s backside, then lined a finger up, pressing tentatively again. He pushed more - and again.

He popped his head up. “It didn’t go in,” he reported.

“Push more.”

Ichigo ducked back down and frowned as he pushed with his finger to the point where he thought it must be hurting. Just as he was about to ease back, his finger suddenly penetrated the slick ring of muscle. A bit surprised, Ichigo pulled back instinctively, and looked back to Renji, who just raised his eyebrow again, like he'd hardly felt it. Determined to try and learn, Ichigo pushed his finger back in, slowly, watching attentively.

It sunk in until it couldn’t go any further, and Ichigo just let his finger rest inside for a moment, mouth ajar, eyes wide in wonder. It was silly, but he hadn't expected it to feel this  _alive_ on the inside. He'd vaguely imagined a warm passage, but this moved and pulsated, shifted with Renji's breath. Wow, it was so tight, and really hot. The firm walls of flesh and muscle squeezed and hugged, pulsing with Renji’s heartbeat. Ichigo wiggled his finger experimentally, twisted it slowly, and then pulled it out.

He didn’t know much of what to do other than to put it in and then back out, so he did that for a while until he felt unbearably amateur. Ichigo grimaced anxiously and looked back up to Renji for instruction. “Put another one in,” Renji said, and his voice was level, which was a bit discouraging. Ichigo nodded his head, and eased the index finger of his other hand in, glancing back up. “Like, two at the same time, I mean.”

“Okay.” Feeling dumb, Ichigo nodded again and slowly tried to get two inside. It was a little harder than one, forcing the entrance to stretch, but soon they went in easier as the muscle relaxed. He tried doing what Renji had been doing, turning his hand around and aiming slightly up, pressing with the tips of his fingers as deep inside as he could. He tried to spread his fingers too, but it was a real test of strength with those tight walls bearing down around them.

At this point, Ichigo was breathing raggedly, and was so hard that it fucking _hurt._ He was kneeling and bent down between Renji’s legs, because he was sure that if he lay on his front and let his dick press into the blankets, he might cum like that, and there was no way he was going to wreck the opportunity to put it inside. God, he can’t remember ever being this hard. He and Renji were going to have sex, they were really gonna’ do it - he was going to put it inside. Ichigo could hardly stand the anticipation.

“That okay?” he panted, and looked up at Renji for the first time in a while, and was encouraged by the reaction, his mouth hanging ajar. Renji was still resting his head on his arms, but his chest and neck were flushed – even his cheeks were rosey. He was damp with sweat, and was licking and biting his lips. His erection had gone down some to Ichigo’s dismay, and was now only half-hard, but as Ichigo straightened up in concern, his finger slipping out, Renji gave a sultry hum, running his teeth along his lower lip with a groan, adjusting the placement of his back on the bed and pushing his ass out towards Ichigo.

“Yeah,” Renji groaned, his voice pure sex, and it’s a good thing Ichigo was sitting on his legs, because they went weak and wobbly. A fat drop of precum oozed out of his cock, and a shaky moan escaped. He’s never been this turned on.

Pleased that Renji seemed to be enjoying his efforts - or at least making a good-faith impression of it - Ichigo eagerly crouched back down and tried some more, tentatively attempting that finger-curling thing that Renji had kept doing to him. After a little while longer of that, Renji grunted lowly, “Ready now.”

Ichigo swallowed, throat having gone dry. “Yeah?” he breathed, frozen.

“Yep,” Renji replied, popping the ‘p’ as he settled into the blankets a bit more, in anticipation maybe.

“Okay,” Ichigo mumbled, straightening up and hesitantly moving forward. Renji moved his legs up so that his feet were flat on the bed, knees open. He was still only half-hard, but that didn’t seem to concern him – he was clearly aroused, sweat beading on his brow, pupils dilated, his chest heaving. Ichigo knelt there and stared until Renji gave him an expectant look, at which Ichigo jolted and hurriedly scooted forward.

Looking down, Ichigo’s vision swam for a moment, his pulse thundering in his ears. Shit, he’s going to have sex. It’s really happening. He took his cock in hand and moved forward that last little bit until his thighs were touching Renji’s sides, wedging against his butt. He let Renji rest his legs around his hips, and then breathed raspily, “Okay, here I go.” He bit his lip fiercely and watched his own movements anxiously as he leaned forward and let the slick head of his cock touch Renji’s warm opening.

He pressed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and then pressed again – it didn’t go in.

Cut to the raw nerve, Ichigo was an inch from wailing in despair that he’d gotten this far only for it not to go in – but then Renji gave him the same look he'd given him when he'd tried putting his finger in and then given up early. "Keep goin'," Renji said, huffing a laugh through his nose, "You won't hurt me, Ichigo." Ichigo nodded, swallowed, and pushed harder, holding his dick straight, and it was the hardest thing he’s ever done to not just cum against Renji’s asshole.

Finally, his mouth fell open in a gasp as the inflamed sensitive head finally began to penetrate, and then went inside, breaching Renji’s warm muscles.

Ichigo hunched slightly, his head dropping between his shoulders and his jaw opening. He’d meant to go in slow, he really had, but he couldn’t help it suddenly, his mind going blank but for the implicit command that he _rut_. He pushed inside more, pressing his hips down and onto Renji’s rear, forcing the rest of his dick down his slick hot passage. Oh fuck, it’s good, he’s so good- Ichigo loved him, he loves this, this is where he always wants to be, Renji- _Renji-_

Ichigo almost came right away, holding desperately to Renji’s waist and breathing raggedly. He held his lower body absolutely still, trying to hold off the crushing weight of the tide. Even thinking about orgasming might put it over-

“Did that hurt? Did- did I hurt you?” he somehow gasped, realizing he’d lost control of himself for a minute there. He can’t let go of Renji’s hips, using his grip to hold him still and simultaneously press forward against him harder, but he is able to lovingly rub his thumbs against Renji’s tummy. Ah, he can’t see. Ichigo blinked, blinded by tears. There was too much saliva in his mouth. He can’t do anything but hold onto Renji’s sides and try not to move, try not to cum.

“No?” There’s a sound of movement, probably Renji lifting his head, and damnit, his voice sounded completely normal. Ichigo just panted for a minute, and every time he thinks he’s got it under control finally, he thinks about it again, he’s _inside Renji, they're having sex-_ and then his dick twitches and takes him near orgasm again. It’s unbearable and amazing and Ichigo didn’t think he’d fully appreciated life until right now with every inch of his flesh burning in the most exquisite pain.

He dug his fingers into Renji hard, biting his lip viciously. God, this is-

“I told you - you won't hurt me. ... Hey, c’mon, start,” Renji urged, apparently confused by his long pause, because he wiggled his hips impatiently. Ichigo just seized him, mouth open, his vision blackening out of existence as his entire core tightened up, forcing him to curl forward. He gasped, then came like he’d never cum before.

It was quiet for a long moment as Ichigo panted like a beached fish. Finally, when he felt like he was back in his body again, corporeal, he heard the stunned words, “Did you just-” and a tidal wave of humiliation crashed over him.

Somebody fucking kill him.

“Pfffsh!” Renji sputtered, and Ichigo curled up a little more, because his laughter sent jolts of raw pleasure through his sensitive cock. “Did you cum?!” Renji started laughing a little bit incredulously, and every time he did, his insides moved around him torturously.

Ichigo gasped that he was sorry and stayed inside, still heaving for breath and trying to hold Renji still. “Oh-” he stuttered, gritting his teeth to try to keep it in, but he couldn’t, “Ohhhh.”

Renji laughed some more, practically cutting Ichigo's vision to white and driving him to tears. “You came before even moving,” he teased through a snort, still in disbelief.

“Shut uuuup!” Ichigo finally howled with what little breath he had, still pressing his hips tightly to Renji’s.

Eventually, after a long while of Renji laughing lowly, Ichigo pulled out, and if the humiliation of it wasn't enough, seeing the wet trail following his exit, a single gleaming string connecting them as he moved back clumsily _was._ He scowled as Renji laughed at him, his face red and head hanging in shame. He was so fucking embarrassed, god, he doesn't think anything more embarrassing has ever happened to him in his entire life.

Unable to stand it, he dove onto the bed next to Renji, knees curled under him as he shoved his head down and held the back of his neck beneath clasped fingers. He wanted to die.

“Aww,” Renji hummed, trying to stop himself from laughing to try to get Ichigo to come out, but not completely concealing his amusement. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t hide.” Renji kissed on his back and neck to coax him out, and eventually Ichigo picked his head up, just a little. “I’m flattered, really,” Renji said, grinning from ear to ear, at which Ichigo just let his head flop back down, growling.

“Aw, no, no, I’ll be nice,” Renji promised, “Come back out.” He kissed on Ichigo’s ear, his cheek, and Ichigo peeked out a little, face still flushed, but he wants to die a little bit less.

Renji got closer to him, nudging his legs and moving against him, and he nuzzled his face against Ichigo’s until he stopped wallowing and returned his embrace. "Sorry," Ichigo mumbled, feeling horribly ashamed. Renji must regret taking him to bed now. All those things he'd said about him being too young, just a kid, far too inexperienced - Ichigo had proved them all right. He must've disappointed Renji so horribly...

"'M sorry..."

"Ichigo," Renji merely hummed against his cheek, snuggling his face into his head. "Ichigo, d'you think I didn't expect that?"

Feeling his heart plummet into his stomach, Ichigo found he couldn't breathe for a moment, his fingers digging into Renji's arms - for a moment, his emotions still wallowing in the depths of shame, he felt as though he could cry. "What?" he breathed. 

"I mean, you did surprise me shooting off right away like that, but I did figure it wouldn't take long," Renji continued, but his voice was warm and indulgent;  _sweet_ , even. He didn't sound like he was being mean... quite the opposite, in fact. He sounded absolutely endeared to him, and he was holding him so nicely, so lovingly... Ichigo peeked an eye towards Renji's to find him smiling. "That's how it goes, though - it's a first time."

"Why-" Ichigo wondered then, brow scrunching, "Why did you let me, if you knew I was just gonna' wreck the whole thing?"

"Hey, hey, not wreck it," Renji scolded mildly, "I let you 'cause I wanted you ta' enjoy yourself - an' you clearly did," he chuckled. "Maybe a little too much, but that's not the point."

"What is?" Ichigo muttered, feeling a little less like he was going to begin to weep from disgrace. 

Renji nosed at his face to turn it up to his, and then guided their mouths together. Ichigo closed his eyes and kissed him back. “Point is we did it,” Renji mumbled against his lips, smiling gleefully and holding them together.

“Kind of,” Ichigo mumbled back, still very very embarrassed, but he did share some of Renji's excitement. They... they _had_ done it, hadn't they. It didn't seem so scary now with the first time over with, although he knows he won't be able to live tonight's humiliation down for a long time - but all the same, they had done it, they'd joined, even if just for a moment. 

Ichigo sighed and closed his eyes, digging his brow into Renji's forehead. Ah, why had he had to go and finish so soon? Renji must think he's such a idiot - this must prove right all Renji's thoughts that he was too young to possibly-  
   
"Don't worry," Renji hummed, kissing his frowning mouth. "It's not like it'll be the only time. You can try again. And me," he said determinedly, squeezing one side of Ichigo's bottom. "Next time I'll make sure to satisfy you."  
  
Ichigo swallowed and nodded, and it was then he noticed that Renji was still hard, his erection hot and trapped between their bellies. "Oh, sorry, uh..." He tried to push himself up on his arms, awkwardly looking down and mumbling, “Do you want me to- Uhh… What should I...?”

Renji smiled, his arms still wrapped around him. Ichigo let Renji roll him over onto his back, and then further so that he was facing away, his back resting against Renji’s chest as he came up behind him. Ichigo's eyes involuntarily closed, feeling their bodies touch from shoulders to toes like that. Renji fit his chin against Ichigo's shoulder, nestling their heads together. His erection was hard and hot, pulsating where it pressed firmly against his bottom.

"What're you gonna' do?" Ichigo wondered as Renji pushed up onto one elbow above him. He leaned down to kiss him on the lips, taking Ichigo's upper thigh and pulling it back against him for a moment to grind their bodies together. "Ah-mmh," Ichigo's eyes shut as Renji slid an arm under his neck and turned his face up for a deep kiss, running their tongues together until his mouth felt numb. 

Breaking the kiss, his lips wet and glistening, Renji gazed down at him, hair surrounding his face, his eyes glittering, deep and dark. "Cross your legs," he murmured, then suckled at Ichigo's lower lip, moving steadily down to bite at his chin and then lick a path down his neck, then back up to his ear, kissing and nipping at it.

Ichigo could remember hearing someone joke that he had Renji wrapped around his little finger, but he vaguely thought that it was Renji who could get him to do anything he wanted, pull him in and tempt him and coax him enough that he would wait for anything, do anything he wanted, if only Renji would talk to him like that, dark and low, with that rasp to his voice.

Although he was still quite worn out from his previous orgasm, Ichigo's heart still began to pound in excitement and trepidation, and that dark sultry command had him going weak all over. He clumsily fumbled to rearrange, resting one ankle on top of the other. Renji was keeping their faces so close that his slow heavy breathing was all Ichigo could hear and focus on, an endless rhythm. A feverish palm took his leg in hand and adjusted it slightly, and Ichigo peeked behind him as Renji moved back from him a bit and spat into his palm. 

"You're not going to - you won't put it in," Ichigo said tentatively, making it come out as a question. Renji moved in, pressing them together, one long length of skin, and Ichigo's breath caught. 

"Shhh," he hushed gently, and Ichigo's eyes drifted closed, his breath coming in small puffs. Renji's cock slipped between Ichigo's thighs, right against his ass. "Can I do this?"

Ichigo managed to nod, and let Renji snake his arms around his chest to hold him against him. He let his own hands rest atop his, holding Renji's wrists. It was so hot, Renji's erection crushed there between his legs. Reaching one hand up to turn his face back up to his, Renji coaxed him into a kiss as he rocked forward. 

Renji was soon thrusting on him and humming into his mouth, holding them so close together that he hardly had room to move against him to force his dick through the tight space. Ichigo could hear himself moaning softly with each smack of Renji's hips against his back. 

Not... not so scary. It was actually really nice, having him this close, glued together from head to toe. That was what Renji was doing, wasn't it, showing him how he'd love him, once they did it - he was showing him how he'd do it to him. 

"Ahh, Renji," Ichigo tried, feeling Renji's cock drag against his balls, and he suddenly felt quite hot inside, his lower abdomen tingling unfamiliarly. "Nhhh."

Wrapping his arms tightly around him, Renji came with a heavy grunt, continuing to thrust firmly through his orgasm, but eventually slowing and kissing at his shoulder, the breath from his nose tickling his skin. Ichigo looked down, panting, to the sight of Renji’s warm cum rolling down his thigh and wetting the blankets. Renji pried himself off of him and then let Ichigo roll onto his back so they could lay together. He set his head on top of Ichigo’s, holding him close, with his hips carefully curled back.

Ichigo closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, and felt much better. Really, his first time hadn't turned out so bad after all. Even with blowing it so quick like that, he felt very grown up, laying there with Renji, covered in sweat from their exertions and holding each other lovingly.  _He'd had sex -_ well... sort of...

As if able to read his thoughts, after five minutes of flirting with sleep, Renji mumbled into his hair, “Premature ejaculator.”

“Oh my fucking god, will you shut your mouth?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaa ahAHAHHA


	13. Four and a Half

Urahara, calling on some sort of favor that Ichigo hadn’t known he’d owed him, had made Ichigo come babysit Grimmjow for a while, because Urahara had business elsewhere, and when he wasn’t there, Grimmjow maliciously broke stuff. Although it was kind of a weird request, considering Grimmjow was a grown man and was certainly _not_ happy that they thought he needed supervision, but well… he totally did.

It wasn’t that bad. Grimmjow and Ichigo had started to learn to get along ever since Ichigo had agreed to have regularly scheduled fights with him – Really, it was charity. No one else would volunteer, and Grimmjow got bored easily. Thankfully, today wasn’t a fight day, and they were at MOS burger for now, because it was lunch time, and Ichigo missed these things when he was in Seireitei.

When he’d let Grimmjow know he was going to bring them back some burgers, he’d had to wait for him to get in a specially made gigai – which Grimmjow always fucking complained about wearing, which was why Ichigo had suggested he just wait at the shoten, but _no,_ couldn’t go with the _sensible_ plan, because that would mean listening to Ichigo for once!

So there they’d gone, with Grimmjow under threat of pain if he terrorized the employees. Ichigo had ordered their food as quickly as possible, because Grimmjow was a pretty impatient guy. He was already cranky as it was. For one, he hated people in general, he didn’t like his gigai, and he said that eating felt kinda’ gross.

Meaning, that even after he’d gone through his first spicy MOS burger, Grimmjow’s fish burger was still sitting unwrapped, and untouched, other than being pulled apart by Grimmjow’s finicky fingers.

Ichigo sat cross legged on a stone wall, his wrapper resting in his lap, both his hands holding his sandwich, while Grimmjow lounged around on the ground, leaning by Ichigo’s legs.

“You gonna’ eat that?” Ichigo asked through a mouthful of food. He was pretty full, but if Renji were here, he wouldn't let food go to waste. Ichigo could probably fix that burger… maybe. The fish part was still good.

Grimmjow poked at the straw sticking out of the soda Ichigo had gotten him. “Naw.”

Ichigo shrugged in a ‘suit-yourself’ manner and pulled Grimmjow’s food towards him, only to have it tugged back away. Stupid indecisive bastard. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Grimmjow placed his arms up on his knees, grumbling a bit when his stomach gave a loud growl. Ichigo didn’t even know how it did that; wasn’t there like… a hole?

“Nothin’a’ eat around here,” Grimmjow sniped.

“Dude,” Ichigo mumbled with his mouth full. “Why don’t you just eat the Hollows that pop up?” There weren’t many these days, but it would be, y’know, helpful. Like a cat eating mice.

“You dumbfuck.” Grimmjow always went from a two to a ten like that. There were no mild insults with him, no period between irritation and rage. Ichigo just gave him a deadpan look and took a large bite of food, cheeks bulging. “I’m the compilation of a million evil souls.”

Ichigo raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘your point?’

“Eating Hollows?” Grimmjow said leadingly, like Ichigo was a complete dumbass. “Could _you_ survive off crumbs?”

“Okay, point taken.” Grimmjow had eaten only Vasto Lordes for a long time when he’d been living in Hueco Mundo. Hollows did have to seem kind of shrimpy by comparison.   “We can go there.” He pointed to a conbini that wasn’t far off. Grimmjow gave him a look that indicated he didn’t feel too hot about moving, but as Ichigo gathered up their food and started walking off, Grimmjow – unable to resist following him as always – trailed behind with his hands in his pockets and watched as Ichigo picked some boxed sashimi out of a cooler.

He knew Grimmjow liked the good stuff, but Ichigo was low on funds, and Grimmjow was way too spoiled anyways, the big bully.

Ichigo held the prepackaged sashimi and wouldn’t let Grimmjow touch it or look at it until they’d walked all the way back to Urahara’s, hoping to frustrate him enough that when he finally let him have it, he’d actually eat it. The guy operated on ninety percent spite, ten percent rage; not letting him have or do something he didn’t want to have or do was the only way to make him do it. It mostly worked. He finished Grimmjow’s mangled burger and watched from atop a rock as Grimmjow picked his sashimi apart on the front yard of Urahara’s shop, throwing the rice away into the grass and just eating the fish with his fingers. Savage. Byakuya would be mortified by such bad manners.

“Why’re you sittin’ way over there? Don’t you wanna’ lay down in the sun?” Grimmjow called halfway through his little box. It looked like he liked it, or as well as he could like anything. He sure liked laying around in the sun, after living in a warmthless desert for his entire life. Ichigo had tried repeatedly to prank him while he slept in the yard, but he always caught him.

“I know you break bottles out here like, all the time, Grimmjow.”

_“That’s a rumor!”_

“Whatever. I’m not laying down on the ground with you, Dude.”

Grimmjow was a pretty moody guy almost all of the time, so the best way to live in peace around him was to just not talk to him. Which is why it was so weird when Grimmjow got talkative all of a sudden.

“So, haven’t seen Red in a while.”

Ichigo looked up from the remaining bit of soda he was slurping up. Grimmjow twitched every time he did it; it was funny to see how annoyed he could get him before he snapped. He was getting a lot better about not jumping straight to violence over mild irritants, but the slurping was probably pushing it. Ichigo let the straw pop out of his mouth.

“Yeah, he’s working a lot,” he agreed, then mumbled, shoulders sinking, “Important stuff.” Ever since that talk he and Renji’d had in the locker rooms, they haven’t been able to spend much time together. Sometimes he thought Renji was avoiding him on purpose. He missed him a lot these days.

Being apart for this long was stressing him out. They hadn’t talked in awhile, and he didn’t like it. He was all horny and lonely, and it sucked. Sure, Renji had given him a number on how long he had to wait before they could, y’know, touch and kiss and do all the normal things people who were in love did – but just because he had the number, well, now he had to actually _wait_ it! Being able to count down the days didn’t make it any easier, that was for sure.

“You two fuckin’?” Grimmjow questioned bluntly. Ichigo spewed his drink into the grass, coughing.

“What do you even- Why would you?!” he coughed into his fist, eyes watering. “How can you just-”

“So… _No_ then,” Grimmjow assumed lazily, eyes narrowed. Fuck, he always forgot how perceptive the guy was. He should’ve realized that Grimmjow raising the subject meant he had caught on to something or other. Seeing that it was too late to deny it or dodge the question, Ichigo blushed a little and just shook his head, mouth tightly shut. He didn’t know why Grimmjow had brought this up, but he didn’t particularly want to talk about this one with him. The guy latched onto weakness, and for Renji, Ichigo was pitifully weak.

“Why _not?_ ” he spat incredulously, before his face morphed into that shit-eating grin that Ichigo hated. Just on sight of it, Ichigo stuck his lip out in a scowl and hunkered down in a heated pout. “Oh lemme’ guess. Just another instance of you bein’ a complete chicken-shit.”

“ _No,_ ” Ichigo shot back defensively, “You think you know everything, don’t you!” Grimmjow gave a noncommittal shrug, raising an eyebrow, which Ichigo could see even from this far away, the cocky bastard. “For your information, he’s the one resisting.”

“Hah!” Grimmjow cackled, “He doesn’t even want your ass! Priceless!” Ichigo frowned, not really having anything to say to that. Any refutation would just sound like denial, and agreeing would be pathetic. Besides, he made it a point not to agree with Grimmjow, especially when he was right...

Damn, he’d made himself sad. He looked down at his cup, then back to Grimmjow, who had gone quiet and was staring observantly with that smart look Ichigo hated. In retaliation, Ichigo raised the straw to his lips casually and gave a long slurp, which made Grimmjow groan and flop onto his back.

“You two are some weird fuckers. That guy wants to swallow your entire dick.”

“He doesn’t _act_ like it,” Ichigo muttered. “He’s been a real jerk lately. We don’t talk about it.” He rubbed his hair off his forehead. “I dunno’,” he shrugged, “I dunno’ what’s wrong with me. I’m probly’ just bein’ dumb.”

“What, really, he don’t want you?” Grimmjow’s brow furrowed. “Why, whatsa’ matter with’m’?”

Ichigo really had to fight off a smile at that one. “I don’t know, okay? I’ve told’m’ that I wanna’…” he gestured with his hands, his face feeling hot, “you know… but, he just… won’t,” he ended lamely. “Said we can’t. I can’t get him ta’ change his mind. He’s making this point of having self-control or something.”

“That’s fucked up,” Grimmjow said bluntly. “What’re the merits of having self-control if it keeps you from fuckin’? What is _wrong_ with that guy?”

“I dunno’. I feel like I’ve tried everything. The guy does not break.”

“ _Why not?_ Ain’t that the weirdest shit?” Grimmjow hummed and cleaned his teeth for a bit. “You tellin’ me you both wanna’ fuck-”

“Yeah.”

“You both…” Grimmjow kind of choked right there, because he was one of those dudes who can’t talk about feelings. Being a Hollow might have something to do with it, but Ichigo was pretty sure it was just his personality.

“Yeah,” Ichigo said shortly, face blazing, eyes carefully averted.

“And he’s fightin’ it for some reason. Even after all that Aizen and Yhwach shit?” Grimmjow clarified, baffled. “The fuck is he doing _that_ for?!”

“He thinks he’s too old for me. Or… I’m too young for him, rather,” Ichigo admitted, and watched Grimmjow for a response, but he just lay in the grass and was quiet for a long time. Ichigo turned back to his food and felt miserable.

The last time he’d seen Renji, he’d been kind of cold to Ichigo. He felt like every time it seemed like they were getting somewhere, Ichigo went and fucked it up without even knowing. He wondered – he wasn’t confident enough to act ‘sexy’ and try to break Renji’s patience, but maybe without knowing… maybe it was hard for Renji to wait too. Maybe Renji just couldn’t even stand to be around him.

Ichigo sighed. He just didn’t know anymore.

“Kurosaki.”

Ichigo looked up to see Grimmjow leaning on one elbow, his palm on his chin, expression his usual uncaring glare. “Huh?” Grimmjow grinned then with all his wicked teeth.

“I think it’s time you handed this one over to the dirty tricks department.”

“ _What?_ ”

Grimmjow stood then and headed towards the shoten, a hand over his shoulder indicating Ichigo should follow. “Three step plan, Kurosaki. He won’t know what hit him.”

Ichigo blinked after him balefully. He didn’t know if any advice of Grimmjow’s would actually _help._ It’d probably be to like… try to _kill_ Renji or something.

Despite himself, he stood and wandered after, curiously. “What’re you thinking, Grimm?” he muttered suspiciously.

“Guy don’t think like the rest of us. Tempting him to fuck ain’t gonna’ work, because well, for one, you’re pathetic, and for two, you said it yourself, the guy don’t break.”

“What then?” Ichigo asked, brow furrowed.

“You gotta’ fingerbang his heart.”

Ichigo snorted and closed his eyes, raising one eyebrow as he rubbed at his temple. “Grimm, I dunno’.” Grimmjow gave him the most offended look he’d ever seen. “Look, it’s been a long time since either of us have even said anything. I don’t even know for sure if he still…”

“Leap of faith then.”

“I don’t believe in acting on faith,” Ichigo said flatly.

“Sure you do.”

Ichigo gave him this weird look, but Grimmjow just smirked and walked away. “C’mon. Evil ta’ plot.” Ichigo sighed and put a hand to his eyes. “Won’t be hard. Abarai’s a bleeder.”

“You’d better know what you’re doing.”

“Make a leap of faith.”

“Ugh, _fine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the renji-centric sequel, Overdue! Thank you for the support.


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